CIHM 
Microfiche 
Series 
(l\/lonographs) 


ICIVIH 

Collection  de 
microfiches 
(monographles) 


Canadian  Instituta  for  Hiitorical  Microraproductiona  /  inatitut  Canadian  da  microraproductiona  hiatoriquaa 


©1996 


Technical  and  Bibliographic  Notes  /  Notes  technique  et  bibliographiques 


The  Institute  has  attempted  to  obtain  the  best  onginal 
copy  available  for  filming.  Features  of  this  copy  which 
may  be  blbllographically  unique,  which  may  alter  any  of 
the  Images  In  the  reproduction,  or  which  may 
significantly  change  the  usual  method  of  filming  are 
checked  below. 


u 


D 
D 
D 


D 


Coloured  covers  / 
Couverture  de  couleur 


I     I  Covers  damaged  / 

' — '  Couverture  endommag^ 

I     I  Covers  restored  and^or  laminated  / 

' — '  Couverture  restaurde  et/ou  pellicula 

I     I  Cover  title  missing  /  Le  titre  de  couverture  manque 

I     I  Coloured  maps  /  Cartes  geographlques  en  couleur 

r~V  Coloured  Ink  (l.e.  other  than  lilue  Oi  black)  / 

^^^  Encre  de  couleur  (I.e.  autre  que  bleue  ou  noire) 

I     I  Cokxired  plates  and/or  Illustrations  / 

' — '  Planches  et/ou  Illustrations  en  couleur 


Bound  with  other  material  / 
Relid  avec  d'autres  documents 

Only  edition  available  / 
Seule  Mltk>n  disponible 

Tight  binding  may  cause  shadows  or  distortion 
along  Interior  margin  /  La  rellure  serree  peut 
causer  de  I'ombre  ou  de  la  distorskjn  le  long  de 
la  marge  interieure. 

Blank  leaves  added  during  restorations  may  appear 
within  the  text.  Whenever  possible,  these  fiave 
been  omitted  from  fuming  /  II  se  peut  que  certalnes 
pages  blanches  ajoutees  lors  d'une  restauratlon 
apparalssent  dans  le  texte,  mais,  k>rsque  cela  4tait 
pcsslble,  ces  pages  n'ont  pas  iti  fllm^es. 


L'Institut  a  microfilm^  le  mellleur  examplaire  qu'll  lui  a 
ete  possible  de  se  procurer.  Les  details  de  cet  exem- 
plaire  qui  sont  peut-etre  uniques  du  point  de  vue  bibli- 
ographlque,  qui  peuvent  modifier  une  Image  reproduite, 
ou  qui  peuvent  exiger  une  modifications  dans  la  m«h- 
ode  normale  de  filmage  sont  Indiqu^s  ci-dessous. 

I     I     Cokiured  pages  /  Pages  de  couleur 

I     I      Pages  damaged  /  Pages  endommagdes 

I     I      Paces  restored  and/or  laminated  / 
' — '      Pages  restaurtes  et/ou  pellk:uiees 


[2- 

D 
[I 

D 

D 
D 


D 


Pages  discoloured,  stained  or  foxed  / 
Pages  decolorees,  tachetees  ou  piquees 

Pages  detached  /  Pages  d^tachees 

Showthrough  /  Transparence 

Quality  of  print  varies  / 
Qualite  in^le  de  l'impressk>n 

Includes  supplementary  material  / 
Comprend  du  materiel  suppiementaire 

Pages  wholly  or  partially  obscured  by  errata 
slips,  tissues,  etc.,  have  been  refllmed  to 
ensure  the  best  possible  Image  /  Les  pages 
totalement  ou  partiellement  obscurcles  par  un 
feuillet  d'errata,  une  pelure,  etc.,  ont  6te  fllmees 
^  nouveau  de  fapon  h  obtenir  la  mellleure 
Image  possible. 

Opposing  pages  with  varying  colouration  or 
discolourations  are  filmed  twice  to  ensure  the 
best  possible  Image  /  Les  pages  s'opposant 
ayant  des  colorations  variables  ou  des  decol- 
orations sont  film6es  deux  fols  afin  d'obtenlr  la 
meilteur  image  possible. 


D 


Addtional  comments  / 
Conmentaires  suppl^mentaires: 


This  ittm  rs  f  iHnad  st  th*  rtduetion  ratio  chtcfcad  below/ 
Ce  document  est  fihne  au  taux  tfe  reduction  indMiue  ct-dessous. 
10X  UX  18X 


22X 


y 


12X 


20/ 


The  copy  filmed  here  hat  been  reproduced  thanks 
to  the  ganerotity  of: 

MKOdrum  Library 
Carltton  Uninnity 


L'exemplaire  fllmA  fut  reprodult  grlce  i  la 
gtntrositt  de: 

MacOdrum  Library 
Carlaton  Univtnlty 


The  Images  appearing  hare  are  the  best  quality 
possible  considering  the  condition  and  legibility 
of  the  orlglnel  copy  and  In  keeping  with  the 
filming  contract  speclflcetlons. 


Les  Images  sulvantss  ont  M  reprodultes  avec  le 
plus  grand  soln,  compte  tenu  de  la  condition  et 
de  le  nettetA  de  l'exemplaire  fllmt,  et  en 
conformity  avec  les  conditions  du  contrat  de 
fllmege. 


Original  copies  In  printed  paper  covers  are  filmed 
beginning  with  the  front  cover  and  ending  on 
the  last  page  with  a  printed  or  illustrsted  impres- 
sion, or  the  back  cover  when  appropriate.  All 
other  original  copies  are  filmed  beginning  on  the 
first  page  with  a  printed  or  Illustrated  Impres- 
sion, and  ending  on  the  last  page  with  a  printed 
or  Illustrated  impression. 


Les  exemplairas  originaux  dont  la  couverture  en 
pepier  est  Imprlmte  sont  fllmis  en  commenfant 
par  le  premier  plat  et  en  termlnant  soit  par  la 
jerniAre  page  qui  comporte  une  empreinte 
d'Impression  ou  d'ill'JStration,  soit  par  le  second 
plat,  sslon  le  cas.  Tous  les  autres  exemplairas 
originaux  sont  fllmte  en  comment  ant  par  la 
pramlire  pege  qui  comporte  une  empreinte 
d'Impression  ou  d'illustratlon  et  en  termlnant  par 
la  dernitre  pege  qui  comporte  une  telle 
empreinte. 


The  last  recorded  frame  on  each  microfiche 
shall  contain  the  symbol  — »-  (meaning  "CON- 
TINUED"), or  the  symbol  V  (meaning  "END"), 
whichever  applies. 


Un  des  symboles  sulvants  apparattra  sur  la 
darnlire  Image  de  cheque  microfiche,  selon  le 
cas:  Is  symbole  — »-  signifie  "A  SUIVRE",  le 
symbols  V  signifie  "FIN". 


F^eps,  plates,  charts,  etc.,  mey  be  filmed  at 
different  reduction  retios.  Those  too  large  to  be 
entirely  included  in  one  exposure  are  filmed 
beginning  In  the  upper  left  hand  corner,  left  to 
right  and  top  to  bottom,  as  many  frames  as 
required.  The  following  diagrams  illustrate  the 
method: 


Les  csrtes,  planches,  tableeux,  etc.,  peuvent  ttre 
filmAs  A  des  taux  de  rMuction  diffirents. 
Lorsque  le  document  est  trop  grand  pour  ttra 
reprodult  en  un  seul  cllchi,  il  est  filmi  i  pertir 
de  Tangle  supArieur  gauche,  de  gauche  A  droite, 
et  de  haut  en  bes,  en  prenant  le  nombre 
d'images  nicessaire.  Les  disgrammes  sulvants 
lllustrent  la  mAthode. 


1  2  3 


1 

2 

3 

4 

5 

6 

MiaiOCOPY   HSOIUTION   TEST   CHART 

(ANSI  ond  ISO  TEST  CHART  No.  J) 


_^  /APPLIED    IIVMGE      In 

SST:^  '6^3  East   Main  Street 

S'S  Rochester.   New  York         14609       USA 

"-ag  (716)   482  -  0300  -  Phone 

^^  (716)   288  -  5989  -  Fax 


THE 


/, 


NOTARY  OF  GRAND  PRE 


HISTORIC   TALE   OF   ACADIA 


wv 

A.  J.   McLaOl) 


N  ^ 


BOSTON 

PUBLISHED   BY  TH«  AUTHOK 

I9OI 


Eauml  Acconling  to  Act  of  Congress  in  the  Yesr  1901,  by 

A.  J.  McLEOD 
In  the  OfBce  of  the  Libtarian  of  Congress,  at  Washington 


PREFACE. 


This  story  is  a  digest  of  legendary  lore  as  re- 
lated by  descendants  of  the  French  Acadians 
and  Micmac  Indians. 

As  to  times,  places  and  historic  events,  it  is 
substantially  accurate. 

The  "Notary"  is  a  real  character,  Francis 
Parkman,  the  historian,  speaks  of  him  as  "the 
Notary  Le  Blanc,"  and  other  writers  make  men- 
tion of  him  as  a  man  of  importance  with  the 
Acadians  at  the  time  of  their  eviction.  Longfel- 
low erroneously  represents  him  to  be  an  old  man. 

But  no  word  have  we  from  either  of  these  rel- 
ative to  his  subsequent  eventful  life,  as  told  in 
traditions  of  his  people  and  herein  fancifully  nar- 
rated. 

THE  AUTHOR. 


THE 
NOTARY  OF  GRAND  PR^. 


CHAPTER  I. 

Blomidon,  mysterious  abode  of  Glooscap,  the 
mythic  Micmac  god,  well  rewards  its  visitor,  be 
he  scientist,  pleasure-seeker,  souvenir  fiend,  or 
mere  idler  awaiting  glad  surprises. 

This  grandest  among  sea-cliSs,  rising  abruptly 
out  of  the  water  four  hundred  feet,  exposes  to 
view  three  distinct  strata  of  denuded,  search- 
inviting  rock. 

Seen  at  low  water,  clean,  tide-washed  new  red 
sandstone  forms  the  base.  Resting  on  this  is  a 
thick  stratum  of  amygdaloid  trap,  veined  with 
tinted  gypsum  and  dotted  with  silicates  of  great 
variety  and  beauty,  among  which  may  be  found 
chalcedony,  jasper,  opal,  agate  and  other  precious 
stones.  Supported  upon  this  gem-bespangled 
foundation,  rises  erect  nearly  two  hundred  feet  of 
dark  green  crystalline,  columnar,  basaltic  trap, 
all  crowned  with  shrubbery  and  evergfreen  woods 


of  ancient  growth,  the  whole  cliff  resembling 
ruins  of  some  colossal  art  structure  adorned  by 
time  and  decorated  by  decay. 

This  majestic  bluff  is  wholly,  except  the  sand- 
stone base,  of  volcanic  origin,  being  the  eastern 
extremity  of  a  long  ridge  of  trappean  rock 
formed  by  an  ancient  current  of  molten  stone  or 
lava,  erupted  through  the  earth's  crust  and  flow- 
ing over  and  cooling  upon  the  red  sandstone  sea- 
bottom,  on  which  the  whole  ridge  now  rests. 

This  great  dyke  of  hardened  lava,  now  locally 
called  "North  Mountain,"  extends  westward 
from  Blomidon  123  miles,  and  was  at  some  time, 
in  unrecorded  ages,  upheaved  with  its  bed  of  sub- 
marine origin  and  became  the  south  sea-wall  of 
that  tumultuous  estuary  of  the  ocean  named  "Bay 
of  Fundy."  Then  commenced  to  flow  the  im- 
petuous ocean  current  that  in  time  became  the 
now  strange  turbulent  tides  of  this  historic  bay ; 
unequalled  for  height  and  rapidity  of  onrush  in 
any  other  known  part  of  the  earth,  and  never  sat- 
isfactorily accounted  for. 

Subsequent  to  this,  and  before  man  began  to 
note  results  of  world-forming  forces  at  work 
upon  our  earth,  this  surging  tide,  aided,  most 
likely,  by  glacial  drift,  found  a  way  through  the 
extreme  eastern  end  of  the  lava  ridge,  or  be- 
tween it  and  the  vastly  older  adjoining  rock,  and 


flowing  inland  upon  a  depressed  area,  settled 
finally  into  the  large  salt  lake  known  as  the  Basin 
of  Mines.  And  ever  since,  this  swirling  tide,  like 
a  mighty  river,  has  flowed  in  and  out  the  rock- 
lined  strait,  wearing  ever  wider  and  deeper  its 
channel  and  fretting  into  fantastic  form  the  re- 
sisting shores  of  the  beautiful  blue  Basin. 

On  the  rich  alluvial  land  sloping  south  and 
west  from  the  shores  of  this  Basin,  the  French 
Acadians  built  the  neat  rural  homes  that  formed 
the  unique  village  of  Grand  Pre,  and  on  the  salt 
marshes  piled  up  the  vast  dykes  that  dammed 
back  the  mighty  tides  from  many  thousand  acres 
of  the  most  fertile  of  known  soils 

Here,  for  more  than  a  century,  lived  and 
toiled,  and  loved  and  died,  a  contented,  prosper- 
ous people. 

To  the  eastward  of  Grand  Pre,  the  surface  of 
the  country  is  broken  into  irregularly-shaped 
hills  that  end  at  the  shore  of  the  Basin,  thus  form- 
ing a  rocky  coast-line  indented  with  numerous 
small  coves  where  the  tide  once  came  far  inland 
among  the  choppy  hills. 

About  four  miles  to  the  east  of  the  village 
there  was  then  a  deep  cove  with  cliflfy  shores  and 
gravelly  beach. 

At  the  head  of  this  cove,  late  in  the  afternoon 
of  Sept.  5th,  1755,  a  man  walked  back  and  forth 


near  the  water's  edge  as  if  impatiently  waitin 
some  expected  event. 

The  sun  was  nearly  down.  The  tide  approach- 
ing its  flood  and  fretting  into  foam  on  the  rugged 
coast.  The  only  living  thing  in  sight  was  the 
man. 

He  was  tall,  compactly  built,  and  clad  in  a 
complete  suit  of  tanned  buckskin,  that  fitted 
closely  and  showed  a  sinewy  symmetrical  frame. 

A  sharp-featured  fine  fac»,  furrowed  across  the 
brow,  gave  him  an  old  look ;  but  his  step  was 
elastic,  his  form  erect  and  there  was  youthful  fire 
in  his  dark  eager  eyes. 

It  would  have  been  difficult  to  guess  his  age. 
He  might  have  been  forty  and,  as  likely,  less  than 
thirty  years  old. 

Around  his  waist  was  a  stout  belt,  and  sus- 
pended from  it,  at  the  right  side,  dangled  a  long 
sword. 

Back  and  forth  across  the  beach  he  walked. 
The  sun  settled  slowly  below  the  horizon's  verge, 
and  as  slowly  above  it  crept  the  full  harvest 
moon.  The  incoming  tide  surged  up  to  its  high- 
est limit,  then  sobbed  back  against  the  gray  rocks 
and  rested.  The  yellow  light  of  lingering  day 
and  silvery  shafts  from  the  moon  flecked  the  blue 
surface  of  the  broad  basin,  and  elemental  sounds 
were  hushed  to  "soft  quiet." 


As  the  daylight  faded,  the  light  of  the  moon 
cast  upon  the  gray  sand  a  long  shadow  from  a 
tall,  c  iggy  cliflf  on  the  east  side  of  the   cove. 
Strongly  outlined  and  tapering  to  a  point  the 
shadow  touched  the  water's  edge.    This  seemed 
to  be  the  expected  event,  for  stepping  into  the 
ghost-hke  obscurity,  a  moment  the  man  scanned 
with  searching  gaze  the  shore  and  the  shimmer- 
ing water  to  the  utmost  limit  of  vision.   Then,  as 
if    satisfied  that  no    human  ey  saw  him,    he 
stooped  at  the  point  where  the  shadow  and  water 
met  and  lifted  from  its  place  a  large,  irregular 
shaped  rock  that  no  ordinary  man  could  have 
moved,  and  scooped  with  his  hands  a  hole  in  the 
sand  at  the  bottom  of  its  bed.    Then  stepping  to 
a  thicket  near  by,  returned  with  a  strong  looking 
steel  box  about  ten  inches  long  by  five  wide  and 
deep,  placed  it  in  the  hole  and  replaced  the  heavy 
rock.    Standing  upon  it  for  several  minutes,  he 
searched    again  with     suspicious  scrutiny    the 
whole  range  of  land  and  water,  then  with  rapid 
step  entered  the  dark  woods  and  disappeared. 

If  any  of  the  people  of  the  country,  French, 
English  or  Indians,  had  seen  this  man  they 
would  readily  have  recognized  him  as  the  Notary 
of  Grand  Pre,  a  Public  Official  of  authority  in 
the  place.  Soon  after  the  close  of  the  last  war 
between  France  and  England  he  had  come  to  the 


ronntry  of  the  Acadians,  already  a  commissioned 
Notary,  and  taken  up  his  abode  in  the  village. 

None  questioned  him  why  or  whence  he  came. 
Those  were  troublous  times  in  La  Belle  France. 
Events  were  transpiring  that  resulted  not  many 
years  later  in  the  bloodiest  of  civil  wars.  There 
weie  fugitives,  many  fiom  justice,  and  injustice 
as  well,  and  the  Acadian  colony  of  the  new  world 
aflforded  a  safe  and  inviting  asylum.  That  the 
tall,  handsome  Notary  was  one  of  the  former 
class,  the  Acadians  more  than  suspected ;  but  he 
was  a  good  citzen  and  held  high  rank  in  the 
place,  which  was  enough  for  this  simple  people. 
Among  them  the  Notary  acted  as  Judge  in  all 
Civil  affairs,  and  had  other  Powers. 

That  T,as  a  tranquil  sunset  and  silvery  Autumn 
moon-rise,  over  the  forest-fringed  Basin  of 
Mines;  but  in  the  quaint  village  of  Grand  Pre, 
a  few  miles  distant,  there  was  the  black  smoke 
and  roar  of  devouring  flames,  mingled  with  the 
sobs  of  women  and  children,  and  muttered  curses 
from  stout  hearted  men  with  tear-stained  cheeks, 
forced  to  behold  the  burning  of  their  homes  and 
helpless  to  defend  their  families  fleeing  there- 
from. 

That  day  in  the  village  of  Grand  Pre  alone 
hree  hundred  houses,  four  hundred  other  build- 
ings and  one  church  were  burned  to  the  ground 


and  two  thousand  inhabitants  made  homeless 
prisoners. 

Whatever  for  reasons  of  State  policy,  may  be 
said  m  justification  cf  this  harsh  treatment,  and 
much  has  been  so  saii'  and  well  said,  there  still 
remains  the  "steel  cold  tact"  that  it  was  bitterly 
cruel,  thus  to  drive  this  almost  blameless  people 
from  the  homes,  they  had  by  tireless  industry 
won  from  dense  forests  or  reclaimed  from  in- 
vadmg  iides,  and  export  them  to  strange  lands 
where  they  were  unwelcome ;  where  their  lan- 
guage was  not  understood,  and  their  religion  a 
heresy. 

This  much,  however,  in  fairness  to  England 
should  be  said,  namely,  that  it  was  not  planned 
by  the  British  Government  nor  executed  by  Brit- 
ish army  regulars.  It  was  conceived  and  planned 
by  Governor  Shirley  of  the  Massachusetts  Bay 
Colony,  assisted  by  Lieutenant-Governor  Law- 
rence of  Nova  Scotia;  and  carried  into  eflfect  by 
volunteers  from  the  New  England  colonies  com- 
manded by  John  Winslow,  commissioned  by 
Governor  Shirley  for  the  purpose. 

Colonel  Winslow  and  most  of  his  volunteers 
were  direct  descendants  of  the   pious   Pilgrim 

s^rleH  /.''SVr  t  r*"'^  ^""^  puritanically  ob- 
served the  Sabbath  Day  to  keep  it  holy  and  been 
constant  in  prayer":  but  had  nevertheless  been 


at  no  time  averse  to  the  Uking  of  human  life  on 
any  pretext  of  just  cause  be  it  heresy,  witchcraft 
or  war ;  and  were  now  more  than  willing  to  kill 
these  Acadians  and  devastate  their  homes,  al- 
though no  state  of  war  existed  at  tlie  time  be- 
tween France  and  England,  and  for  no  more 
righteous  a  cause  than  that  they  were  of  a  differ- 
ent nationality,  were  loyal  to  their  King  and  true 
to  their  Church. 

"Toil,  trade  and  puritanism"  had  made  them 
sharp  featured,  calculating  and  old-blooded,  and 
it  was  easy  for  them  to  I  lieve  that  they  were 
doing  God's  service  in  any  transaction  that  prom- 
ised to  themselves  gain  or  glory. 

It  is  worthy  of  especial  note  and  seems  like 
retribution  that  only  thirty  years  after  this  cruel 
eviction,  some  of  these  same  volunteers  and  many 
of  their  sons,  in  pitiable  poverty  and  outcasts 
from  their  country,  sought  and  found  a  scanty 
living  on  these  very  farms  from  which  they  had 
so  ruthlessly  banished  the  inheritors. 

At  the  close  of  the  revolutionary  war  between 
the  American  colonies  and  England  all  those 
who  had  remained  loyal  to  their  King  had  their 
property  confiscated,  and  themselves  forced  to 
leave  the  country  not  to  return  on  penalty  of 
death.  About  ten  thousand  of  them  settled  m 
Novia  Scotia,  many  of  whom  asked  and  received 


u  charity,  the  right  to  possess  themselves  of  the 
then  impoverishoil  farms  of  the  evicted  Acadians. 
WhenonthatuismalFriday  the  fifth  of  Septem- 
ber, I7SS,  the  male  inhabitants  of  Grand  Pre  at 
three  o'clock  in  the  afternoon  assembled  in  the 
Church  to  hear  what  Col.  Winslow  facetiously 
term;d    the    "King's    instructions,"    Rene    Lc 
Blanc  the  Notary  was  not  among  them.     Instead 
of  obeying  the  Royal  summons  he  led  to  the 
door  of  his  house,  where  he  had  always  lived 
alone,  a  large  black  stallion  as  unlike  the  horses 
of  the  country  as  the  Notary  was  unlike  the 
peasants  of  Acadia.    He  had  been  tamed  from 
the  wild  horses  of  the  famous  Ukraine  breed  and 
broke  only  to   the   saddle,  strong,  speedy  and 
sure-footed  over  the  roughest  roads.     He  came 
to  the  country  with  the  Notary  and  had  been  his 
daily  companion  in  long  and  often  swift  rides 
over   the   narrow   winding  roads  of  the  settle- 
ments.   All  th;  country  from  Port  Royal  (now 
Annapolis)   to  Piziquid   (now   Windsor)   knew 
both  horse  and  rider.    To  these  rural  people 
they  were  a  wonderful  pair,  and  in  many  respects 
were  truly  so.    The  saddle  that  now  fitted  his 
compact  form  and  glossy  skin  was  as  foreign  in 
make  as  was  the  steed  in  character.    It  was  ft!-- 
nish.^d  with  saddlebags  and  holsters  of  militai 
pattern  and  stocked  with  heavy  army  pistols. 


MH 


The  sentient  beast  seemed  to  sniff  the  perils  of 
the  ride  for  which  he  was  equipped,  and  stamped 
impatiently  •  pon  the  ground  till  his  master  coolly 
vaulted  int.  he  saddle  and  Ruided  him  swiftly 
along  a  seldom  travelled,  circutious  route  tr  the 
little  cove  where  we  saw  him  hide  the  box  in  the 
sand. 

Soon  after  dark  of  this  historic  day,  in  the  red 
glare  and  noise  of  crackling  flames,  and  dun 
smoke  of  hundreds  of  burning  buildings,  rushed 
the  blick  horse  and  his  rider.  Straight  along 
the  main  road  of  the  village  with  sword  drawn 
and  heels  to  his  horse's  flanks  sped  the  undaunted 
Notary  to  where  his  own  house  still  stood  un- 
touched by  the  incendiary's  torch. 

Mounted  officers  on  guard  about  the  Church 
seemed  unwilling  to  arrest  so  swift  a  horse  and 
daring  rider.  A  few  muskets  were  discharged 
at  him  by  the  soldiers,  but  the  bullets  went  wide 
of  the  mark,  and  it  is  more  than  likely  that  the 
men  who  fired  the  shots,  under  command,  in- 
tended they  should,  for  dash  and  daring  finds 
always  admirance  in  the  soul  of  the  soldier. 
Reaching  unharmed  his  house,  he  dismounted 
and  went  in  for  something  forgotten  in  the  earlier 
part  of  the  day.  In  a  few  minutes  he  was  ag^in 
in  the  saddle  and  urging  his  mettlesome  steed 
now  flecked  with  foam  along  the  rough  and  dan- 


ill! 


i 


gerous  road  to  Port  Royal,  then  an  English  gar- 
rison. All  through  the  dark  night  he  rode  and 
at  daylight  arrived  at  a  small  settlement  of 
French  on  the  intervale  lands  at  the  junction  of 
the  Nictaux  River  with  the  Annapolis.  Here 
he  rested  for  a  couple  of  hours  and  fed  his  horse. 
To  the  people  he  told  the  story  of  the  imprison- 
ment of  the  inhabitants  of  Grand  Pre  and  burn- 
ing of  the  dwellings,  and  advised  them  to  go  to 
the  ^"Aiin  settlement  a  few  miles  up  the  Nictaux 
River  and  remain  in  concealment  until  the  sol- 
diers, who  would  march  to  Port  Royal,  had 
passed  their  settlement,  and  thus  escape  the  fate 
of  their  countrymen  to  the  eastward. 

At  sundown  that  night  he  reached  Port  Royal, 
then  held  by  the  English,  but  the  country  round- 
about was  inhabited  chiefly  by  French,  who  were 
ignorant  of  the  fact,  that  British  soldiers  were 
marching  from  Mines  to  make  them  prisoners 
and  outcasts  in  the  world.  Of  this  he  quietly 
gave  them  warning  and  counselled  as  to  modes 
of  escape. 

But  this  was  not  his  sole  errand  to  the  Eng- 
lish garrisoned  town.  Leaving  his  good  horse  to 
be  cared  for  by  a  friendly  Englishman  who  lived 
about  a  mile  outside  the  garrison,  he  walked 
directly  to  a  small  house  near  the  fort.  An  oM, 
poor  woman  lived  here  alone,  her  chief  occu- 


pation  being  the  care  of  a  little  girl  about  two 
years  old,  that  had  been  placed  in  her  keeping 
by  the  Notary  when  only  an  infant.  Beyond  the 
fact  that  its  name  was  Lete  she  knew  nothing, 
although  she  had  often  resorted  to  feminine 
finesse  to  learn  more;  but  if  she  did  not  more 
than  suspect  that  the  handsome  Notary  was  its 
father,  with  a  pretty  girl  mother  somewhere, 
who  could  not  show  a  marriage  certificate,  then 
she  was  a  marvel  among  her  sex. 

She  was  quick  also  in  noting  that  the  child  was 
certainly  not  of  plebian  parentage,  and  now  be- 
ing informed  that  the  Notary  would  take  it  away 
in  the  morning,  she  pleadingly  asked  to  be  told 
something  of  its  birth  and  destiny ;  but  the  polite 
Frenchi.ian  pleasantly  declined  to  gratify  her 
gossipy  anxiety. 

After  bidding  the  woman  have  in  readiness 
the  child's  best  clothing  and  to  wake  him  at  day- 
dawn,  or  earlier  if  there  should  be  unusual 
sounds,  the  Notary  threw  himself  upon  a  low 
couch  and  was  soon  asleep.  There  was  then  no 
fear  of  telegraph  messages  having  outsped  him, 
and  he  knew  that  he  was  a  full  day's  journey 
ahead  of  the  soldiers,  so  he  slept  soundly  till 
aroused  by  the  day-break  summons  from  the 
woman  ;  then  bidding  her  to  dress  the  child  in  its 
best  clothes,  he  ate  a  hasty  breakfast  and  tak- 


ing  the  little  one  in  his  arms,  walked  rapidly  in 
the  direction  of  the  house  where  he  had  left  his 
horse. 

This  house  was  in  a  small  clearing  in  the  woods 
that  skirted  the  town,  and  hidden  from  view  till 
within  a  few  yards.  As  he  emerged  from  the 
dim  light  of  the  forest  and  came  in  sight  of  the 
house,  he  saw  three  horses  in  the  door-yard,  and 
in  the  road  directly  ahead  of  him  three  stout  men 
in  uniform  of  British  officers. 

The  situation  dawned  upon  him  instantly. 
These  men  had  ridden  through  the  night  to  cap- 
ture him ;  and  his  black  horse  grazing  in  the 
early  morning  had  innocently  thus  betrayed  his 
master.  The  men  were  armed  only  with  swords, 
but  they  were  three  to  one  and  he  must,  at  best 
fight  against  odds.  But  there  was  no  avenue  of 
escape,  and  nerving  himself  for  desperate  con- 
flict, he  continued  his  walk  till  within  a  few  feet 
of  the  men,  then  halted,  holding  the  child  in  his 
arms. 

The  largest  of  the  three,  in  the  uniform  of  a 
colonel,  stepped  a  pace  or  two  nearer  him,  and 
drawing  his  sword,  said  in  commanding  tones: 
"Monsieur  Le  Notary  of  Grand  Pre  your  sword." 
The  Frenchman  quietly  laid  the  child  by  the 
road  side,  and  stepping  backward  against  a  clump 


Ig 

of  bushes,  drew  his  blade,  and  placing  himseH 
on  guard,  said :  "Come  and  take  it." 

As  he  unsheathed  his  weapon  the  officer  no- 
ticed that  it  was  a  straight  French  rapier  several 
inches  longer  than  his  own  heavy  sword,  and 
that  it  was  to  be  wielded  by  the  left  hand.  These 
two  facts  somewhat  perti'-.bed  his  insolent  cool- 
ness of  a  minute  before,  as  it  placed  him  at  dis- 
advantage in  single  encounter;  and  for  the  mo- 
ment, he  thought  of  calling  on  his  men  for  as- 
sistance; but  he  was  stout,  brave  and  skilled  in 
the  use  of  the  sword,  and  waiving  aside  the 
cowardly  thought,  stepped  forward  and  without 
word  accepted  the  Notary's  haughty  challenge. 

Then  there  was  in  the  dim  mist-laden  light  a 
flash  of  polished  steel  and  the  two  brave  men 
stood  foot  to  foot  in  deadly  encounter  while  the 
clang  of  clashing  blades  rang  out  upon  the  still 
morning  air. 

The  officer  with  heavier  sword  and  superior 
strength  forced  the  fight,  while  the  Frenchman 
stood  coolly  on  the  defensive,  and  skilfully  par- 
ried each  deadly  cut  and  thrust,  till  he  had  fully 
measured  the  skill  and  force  of  his  powerful  ad- 
versary ;  then  quick  as  a  glance  he  took  the  offen- 
sive, and  fell  upon  his  antagonist  with  such  fierce 
unusual  attack,  that  in  less  than  a  minute  the 


hi  li  I 


19 

big  officer  lay  at  his  feet  with  a  thrust  through 
his  breast. 

With  his  dripping  blade  held  at  guard  the 
Notary  looked  on  while  the  men  examined  his 
fallen  foe  for  hope  of  life,  but  there  was  none. 
The  thrust  was  .  death  deal  and  life  had  de- 
parted with  it.  "Am  I  to  be  allowed  to  pass  or 
must  more  blood  be  shed  ?"  calmly  said  the  No- 
tary. "We  want  no  more  of  you,"  replied  one 
of  the  soldiers.  Then  saddling  his  horse  and 
placing  the  frightened  child  on  the  saddle-bow, 
he  mounted ;  and  holding  her  with  one  arm  in 
front  of  him,  galloped  out  of  sight  along  the  road 
he  had  travelled  the  day  before. 

He  knew  the  soldiers  were  marching  down 
this  road  to  Port  Royal,  but  trusting  to  his  judg- 
ment as  to  where  they  were,  he  rode  fast  in  the 
direction  they  were  coming,  for  a  distance  of 
about  ten  miles,  then  turned  oflf  to  tl  louth  in- 
to a  narrow  horseback  road,  cut  through  the 
thick  woods.  It  was  this  road  he  had  hoped  to 
gain,  and  did  not  reach  it  a  minute  too  soon,  for 
the  hum  of  marching  men  could  be  distinctly 
heard  as  he  disappeared  in  the  dense  forest, 
where  only  wild  beasts  and  their  trappers  and 
hunters  were  to  be  found. 

Once  out  of  sight  of  the  main  road  he  slowed 
his   horse   down  to  a  walk,  let  the  bridle  reins 


iit!i 


loose  upon  his  neck  and  taking  the  bewildered 
child  in  his  arms,  for  hours  jogged  leisurely  along 
among  the  great  trees  that  spread  their  branches 
across  his  narrow  path. 

Near  sundown  he  reached  a  small  clearing  on 
the  mountain  ridge,  where  a  trapper  lived  alone 
in  a  log  cabin.  The  Notary  had  spent  much 
time  in  the  woods' and  knew  this  trapper  and  his 
place  well.  The  man  was  not  in  his  cabin  nor 
about  the  clearing.  But  this  did  not  disturb  the 
uninvited  visitor,  who  turned  his  horse  loose  in 
the  field,  and  entering  the  hut  made  him- 
self and  the  little  girl  as  comfortable  as  possible. 
Some  coarse  bread  and  salt  meat  in  the  locker 
furnished  a  good  supper  for  their  hungry  stom- 
achs, and  a  heap  of  clean  fir  boughs  made  a  com- 
fortable bed. 

The  Notary  expected  the  trapper's  return  be- 
fore dark,  but  the  night  wore  on  and  he  did  not 
come.  All  the  next  day  he  waited,  but  there  was 
no  sign  of  the  woodsman.  Another  night  passed 
and  he  did  not  come.  Then  he  wrote  on  a  piece 
ot  birch  bark  wl.o  had  been  the  trapper's  visitor, 
asked  him  to  take  good  care  of  his  Iiorse  till  his 
retum  in  a  few  days,  and  taking  *he  child  in 
his  arms,  set  out  on  foot  through  the  forest,  a 
distance  of  about  twenty  miles  to  an  Indian  en- 
campment at  Nictaux,  where  he  had  two  days  be- 


fore  advised  his  countrymen  to  flee  for  a  hiding 
place.  There  was  no  road  through  this  forest, 
merely  a  trail  known  to  the  Indians,  that  could 
be  followed  only  by  daylight.  It  was  a  tiresome 
journey,  carrying  the  child  through  the  thick 
woods,  but  he  made  the  distance  in  the  day, 
rea<'hing  the  camps  a  little  after  dark,  where  he 
found  his  countrymen,  as  he  expected. 

A  young  Sagamore*  of  this  band  of  Indians 
was  the  Notary's  friend,  and  to  his  wigwam  he 
went,  not  caring  to  encounter  the  prying  curi- 
osity of  his  own  people.  For  reasons  he  had  told 
no  one,  he  did  not  care  to  be  questioned  about 
the  little  child,  and  he  knew  the  Sagamore  would 
not  care  to  know  more  than  he  should  choose  to 
tell  him. 

In  race  and  culture,  these  men  were  as  unlike 
as  barbarity  and  civilization,  but  in  many  respects 
they  were  nevertheless  alike;  each  was  in  the 
first  prime  of  manhood,  each  was  strong,  hand- 
some and  athletic,  each  was  a  man  of  authority 
among  his  people  and  held  in  high  esteem. 

The  Sagamore  could  speak  the  Notary's  lan- 
guage quite  well,  the  Notary  had  learned  enough 
of  the  Micmac  tongue  to  make  himself  under- 
stood, and  though  their  homes  were  thirty  miles 


*  Ont  next  in  sv-thority  to  the  Chief. 


I 


m 


apart,  these  men  had  in  the  last  few  years  spent 
much  time  together,  roaming  the  forest  for  game 
and  for  love  of  its  somber  solitudes. 

The  Sagamore  had  withstood  the  threats  and 
persuasions  of  Priests  and  Jesuits,  and  was  firm 
in  the  faith  of  his  ancestors  in  the  bountiful  good- 
ness of  the  Great  Spirit,  they  had  for  ages  trusted 
and  accepted  as  the  good  father  of  the  red  men ; 
and  he  preferred  his  belief  in  the  certainty  of  a 
happy  hunting  ground  in  the  land  of  the  here- 
after, to  the  uncertain  heaven  of  the  white  man's 
religion,  to  be  gained,  as  he  thought,  only  by 
ceaseless  prayers  and  meaningless  ceremonies. 

The  Notary  was  a  confident  believer  in  the 
supreme  power  of  man  to  manage  his  own  affairs, 
and  a  scoffer  of  all  religions ;  still  these  men  were 
firm  friends  after  Nature's  kindly  laws,  and 
moulded  by  its  benign  influences  were  among  the 
noblest  of  men. 

In  the  wigwam  of  this  friend  thr  Notary  and 
child  remained  for  the  night,  and  in  the  morn- 
ing learned  from  his  people  that  tl  c  soldiers  were 
marching  up  the  Nictaux  river  to  capture  them. 
They  were  unarmed  and  unused  to  warfare  and 
had  no  alternative  but  to  surrender.  The  In- 
dians, however,  were  differently  disposed.  There 
were  in  the  encampment  about  one  hundred  war- 
riors well  armed  and  always  ready  to  fight  the 


»3 
English  soldiers  on  any  show  of  cause.  The 
Sagamore  was  by  his  office  their  commander  in 
chief,  and  after  consultation  with  the  Notary, 
decided  that  he  was  bound  in  duty  to  protect  the 
people  who  had  fled  to  his  encampment  for 
safety ;  and  accordingly  prepared  to  g^ve  the  sol- 
diers battle  when  they  should  reach  his  village. 
The  Notary  was  burning  to  avenge  the  wrongs 
done  his  countrymen  and  joined  the  Sagamore  in 
preparing  for  the  fight. 

It  was  about  noon  when  the  soldiers  marched 
to  the  open  plains  near  the  Nictaux  Falls,  and 
sent  armed  officers  to  demand  unconditional  sur- 
render of  the  French  fugitives  gathered  within 
the  grounds  of  the  encampment ;  but  before  the 
demand  could  be  made  the  wild  war-whoops  of 
the  savages  rang  in  the  ears  of  the  confident  sol- 
diers and  filled  their  hearts  with  alarm.  Hardly 
had  they  time  to  set  themselves  in  battle  array 
when  the  savage  onslaught  came,  and  arrows 
and  tomahawks  did  deadly  work  before  the  sol- 
diers could  form  in  solid  column  and  use  the 
bayonet  upon  their  fierce  enemy.  The  Micmacs 
had  a  superstitious  dread  of  this  "sword-on-a- 
gun"  as  they  termed  it,  on  account  of  the  wound 
being  almost  always  fatal.  The  Sagamore  and 
Notary  led  the  wild  warriors,  and  with  sword 
and  tomahawk  dealt  many  a  death  blow.     But 


I 


u 


discipline  proved  more  than  a  match  for  such 
wild  warfare,  and  the  battle  was  soon  ended  with 
the  Notary  and  Sagamore  wounded  and  pris- 
oners. 


»5 


CHAPTER  II. 

The  Indians  having  no  quarrel  of  their  own  to 
maintain,  fled  to  the  woods  as  soon  as  they 
found  themselves  over-matched,    and    left   the 
French  fugitives  to  the  mercy  of  the   soldiers, 
who  made  prisoners  of  them  all,  except  a  few 
boys  who  took  refuge  in  the  bush  beyond  the 
hills.    The  next  morning  preparations  for  the 
march  to  Port  Royal  were  made.    The  French 
habitants  were  allowed  to  march  under  guard 
without  being  in   any   way   fettered.    But   the 
athletic  Notary  and  equally  powerfully  built  Sag- 
amore were  prisoners  of  a  diflferent  character. 
The  soldiers  looked  upon  them  as  being  the  sole 
cause  of  the  death  of  so  many  of  their  comrades 
and  not  being  supplied  with   proper   manacles 
bound  them  with  twisted  withes  round  and  roun.^ 
their  bodies,  confining  the  arms  close  to  their 
sides.    Then  these  wooden  thongs  were  linked 
together  with  other  withes  twisted  into  a  chain 
so  as  to  yoke  the  two  men  like  oxen.    Thus 
strongly  fettered,  they  were  forced  to  march 
ahead  of  the  soldiers,  each  suffering  from  pain- 
ful but  not  dangerous  wounds. 


j6 

Death  certainly  awai'cd  them  both  at  the  garri- 
son, and  it  did  not  matter  much  to  the  soldiers 
if  it  overtook  them  before  they  reached  it.    Feel- 
ing thus  it  was  no  wonder  that  they  were  denied 
a  place  at  the  camp-fire  on   the  cold  Autumn 
nights  of  the  march.    The  night  before  the  garri- 
son would  be  gained  was  very  cold.    A  raw  east 
wind  seemed  to  herald  a  storm  of  snow  or  cold 
rain.    The  two  yoked  prisoners  had  got  together 
with  their  feet  some  dry  leaves,  and  lay  upon 
them  on  the  lee  side  of  the  trunk  of  a  great  pine, 
blown  down  ages  before  and  a  little  apart  from 
the  tents.    The  guard  in  pity  threw  over  them  a 
blanket,  one  side  of  which  rested  on  the  tree  and 
formed  a  sort  of  shed.    This  pleased  the  Saga- 
more, as  he  had  silently  planned  to  escape  that 
night.    The  storm  came  on  with  the  darkness, 
and  the  guard  feeling  that  the  prisoners  were 
safely  stowed  away  for  the  night,  took  shelter 
from  the  rain  in  a  tent   near   by.     The   Indian 
noted  this,  and  bending  his  head  forward  under 
the  blanket,  commenced  to  gnaw  the  withes  that 
bound  his  fellow  prisoner's  arms  to  his  side.    He 
could  not  get  his  teeth  to  bear  upon   his   own 
bonds.    Patiently  he  applied  his  sound  ivory  to 
the  tough  thongs  and  in  a  short  time  gnawed 
them  asunder. 
Thus  freed  it  was  but  tlie  work  of  a  few  min- 


ut«s  for  the  Notary  to  untie  the  withes  that  bound 
his  wily  comrade,  who  then  said  in  a  low  voice : 
Now  we  both  free,  we  creep  away,  run  through 
woods,  get  clear." 

"No,"  said  the  Notary,  "I  cannot  go.     I  do 
not  know  how  to  creep  softly  in  the  woods.    I 
shouM  make  a  noise  and  then  we  would  both  be 
shot,  and  my  leg  is  sore  and  stiflT  from  the  wound 
No,  you  go— creep  sly  and  soft  as  Indians  can, 
till  out  of  sound  of  the  tents,  then  run  in  the 
dark  woods  and  be  safe  away.    I  will  stay  under 
the  blanket  and  move  it  if  the  guard  comes  this 
way.    It  may  be  that  they  will  not  shoot  me  to- 
morrow when  they  get  me  to  the  garrison.  They 
may  keep  me  in  prison  in  the  Fort  or  put  m-  on 
board  a  war  ship  now  in  the  Port.    I  will  bear 
what  I  cannot  prevent  and  wait  a  better  chance. 
If  I  get  free  I  will  come  to  you  first  of  all     If  I 
do  not  come,  then  take  good  care  of  the  child  I 
left  at  your  camp.    Wait  and  watch  for  me  till 
ten  times  twelve  moons  have  come  and  gone,  and 
then  if  I  do  not  come,  get  some  one  to  teach  the 
child  to  read  and  write  French  and  English." 

"And  here,  put  this  in  your  pouch.    It  is  some 

gold  to  pay  her  teacher.    Then  from  that  time 

count  nme  times  twelve  moons  more,  and  if  I  do 

not  then  come— you  know  'Glooscap  Cove?'" 

"Yes,"  answered  the  Sagamore,    "me    know. 


E«tt  Grand  Pre,  where  Miemac  God  Glooteap 
jump  from  Blotnidon  acroii  Basin,  and  make  big 
track  inland  and  pile  rocks  high  on  lunrite  tide. 
Many  times  I  been  there.  Some  time  Gloofcap 
he  come  again,  land  in  this  cove  and  make  plenty 
game  for  his  people." 

"Well,"  continued  the  Notary,  "you  go  there 
in  September,  nineteen  years  from  now.  Go  the 
fifth  day  just  before  sunset.  The  moon  will  be 
full  that  day.  It  will  rise  an  hour  before  sun- 
down. The  sky  will  be  clear,  the  Basin  calm, 
and  the  tide  at  the  flood.  You  watch,  and  when 
the  sunlight  fades  from  the  water,  the  moon  will 
appear  from  behind  the  hills,  and  the  tall,  black 
rock  on  the  east  side  of  the  cove  will  make  a 
shadow  on  the  sand.  The  point  of  that  shadow 
will  just  touch  the  edge  of  the  water.  Go  to 
where  the  shadow  and  water  meet,  and  lift  out  of 
its  place  a  large,  ragged  rock  at  that  point,  dig 
down  in  the  sand  in  its  bed  with  your  hands,  and 
you  will  find  a  steel  box,  not  very  large.  Take 
it  to  the  girl,  open  it  and  let  her  read  the  writing 
you  will  find  on  the  top  within.  It  will  tell  you 
and  tell  her  all  that  I  must  not  now  tell  any  one." 

"Ugh  I"  said  the  bewildered  Sagamore,  "too 
much  like  dream.  Ten  times  twelve  moons,  nine 
times  twelve  moons — nineteen  years.  Yes,  I 
wait  so  long  for  big  white  chief  come  back.    He 


no  come;  then  I  go  Gloccap  Cove.'  But  me 
no  believe  me  find  um  dream  jtory  all  tree.  No- 
body he  know  what  be  .o  long  time  to  come  " 
It  IS  not  a  dream,"  said  the  NoUrv.  "It  will 
all  be  as  I  say.  White  man  he  watch  the  sky  very 
ong;  thmk  very  hard  and  find  that  every  night 
the  moon  rises  and  sets,  and  all  the  time  comes 

Z;  r/i  ""'  °"  •"'  "**  »*»'"'  i"""« 
Mme  as  .t  did  nineteen  years  before.    And  all 

the  time  it  just  repeats  its  movements  «,d 
changes  in  a  great  cycle  in  the  sky;  every  nine- 
s'" ^'*"  T  "'''  •'*'^  "'"^^  nineteen^yelrl. 
Moon  and  tide  and  wind  just  the  same" 

fJ^V^^n  '"  ^"  '*'  P*"'-"P  '°'«  had  during 
the  talk  of  the  prisoners  overtaken  the  place  and 
roared  in  the  branches  of  the  great  trees  a»h 
swept  in  fitful  gusts  of  cold  sleeted  rl  aSng 

tha    covered  these  two  invincible  men  cuddled 

against  the  old  tree-trunk  cuaaiea 

At  length  the  Indian,  feeling  his  way.   as   it 

were,  m  the  wild  tumult  of  the  elements  and  the 

bewilderment  of  his  senses,  said : 

"Stori,:  very  big— night  very  dark-all  sam.- 
you  talk  to  me.  I  no  understand  why  ^^Tnd  bZ 
so  hard-why  rain  come  down  so  fast-so  cold. 
A^l  same  I  no  understand  how  white  chief  he 
Icnow  so  much  not  yet  come.    All  dark  «,me  m 


MSP" 


30 

night — all  strange  as  storm.  But  me  no  forget ; 
me  do  all  my  white  friend  he  ask  me.  Now  I  go. 
You  stay  till  bad  bayonet  cut  get  well,  then  Great 
Spirit  he  help  you  get  free,  same  he  help  me  get 
free." 

"You  helped  yourself,"  said  his  companion. 
"Yl  ^awed  the  withes  asunder  and  freed  your- 
self." 

"No,"  said  the  Indian.  "Great  Spirit  he  give 
me  strong,  sharp  teeth.  I  gnaw  like  beaver,  and 
twisted  wood  it  no  good  any  more  to  make  me 
fast.  Not  myself,  but  Great  Spirit,  he  make  me 
free.  I  no  could  make  myself  teeth  like  chisel. 
I  no  could  make  the  night  dark  and  stormy. 
Good  Spirit  he  make  the  way  and  Indian  follow 
scent — no  more." 

"Very  good  for  you,"  said  the  Notary.  "You 
trust  your  God  for  help,  I  help  myself.  By  much 
trying  I  made  me  very  strong  and  supple.  I  can 
run  fast  and  far.  I  lift  great  weights.  I  fight 
with  sword  best  of  any  man  in  the  world.  I 
shoot  far  and  straight.  I  ride  horseback  safe  and 
strong ;  and  when  danger  comes  I  make  big  fight 
and  get  free  myself." 

"Yes,"  answered  the  solemn  savage,  "my  white 
brother,  he  much  smart  I  know.  He  strong  like 
moose,  he  nimble  like  snake,  he  cunning  like  fox, 
he  brave  like  bear.    But  some  time  maybe  he  get 


3' 
in  place  where  all  these  no  go  id  ;,)   save   :rom 
death.    Then  he  feel  weak  and  civ  in  Good  F^pirit. 
He  save  him  then." 

"More  like  I  shall  save  myself,"  said  the  con- 
fident Frenchman.  "Some  day  we  vill  meet 
again,  I  hope.  Remember  the  nineteen  times 
twelve  moons  and  the  shadow  on  the  shore,  and 
the  box  under  the  stone,  and  be  very  good  to  the 
little  girl ;  she  has  no  mother.  Now,  good-bye." 
"Indian  never  forget,"  said  the  savage. 
"Good-bye;  remember  Good  Spirit  he  help  you 
when  ask  him,"  and  creeping  along  the  side  of 
the  great  log  the  dusky  forest  rover  was  soon  be- 
yond fear  of  capture  and  on  the  way  to  his  peo- 
ple at  Nictaux. 

The  storm  increased  in  fury  and  the  soldiers 
did  not  break  camp  during  the  next  day,  and  it 
was  late  in  the  afternoon  before  any  notice  was 
taken  of  the  fettered  prisoners.  Then  a  soldier, 
with  some  food,  lifted  the  soaked  blanket  from 
the  log  and  found,  soundly  sleeping,  the  Notary, 
unbound  and  alone.  He  was  quickly  marched 
into  camp  and  questioned  as  to  how  and  when 
his  yoke-fellow  had  escaped.  Beyond  the  fact 
that  the  Indian  cut  the  thongs  with  his  teeth  and 
crept  away  he  would  give  no  answer;  and  in  re- 
ply to  the  question  why  he  did  not  himself 
escape,  he  simply  said,  "I  was  not  then  ready." 


IMl 


3» 

The  next  day's  march  brought  them  to  the 
garrison  at  Port  Royal.  The  French  fuptives 
were  put  at  once  on  board  a  vessel  and  taken  to 
some  place  on  the  Continent,  and  the  Notary  held 
in  the  barracks  a  prisoner  of  war.  On  account 
of  his  wounds  he  was  not  put  in  a  prisoner's  cell. 
The  fortress  walls  and  picket-guard  were  consid- 
ered sufficient  to  prevent  his  escape.  He  claimed 
to  be  only  an  ordinary  habitant  of  Grand  Pre,  but 
the  Commander  of  the  British  forces,  however, 
believed  him  to  be  a  man  of  importance,  and  as 
such  had  strict  watch  kept  over  him.  He  was 
allowed  the  garrison  limits  during  the  day,  but 
at  night  was  confined  in  the  stone  prison  in  a 
yard  surrounded  by  a  wall  fifteen  feet  high,  built 
of  rough-split  granite.  In  this  prison  yard  he 
often  walked,  as  the  door  of  his  room  opened  into 
it  and  was  unfastened.  One  of  the  comers  of  this 
wall  was  sharper  than  an  ordinary  square  cor- 
ner, making  an  angle  of  considerably  less  than 
90  degrees.  This  comer  attracted  the  attention 
of  the  prisoner  the  first  time  he  walked  in  the 
yard,  and  he  thought  of  it  as  a  possible  means 
of  escape. 

As  the  days  wore  on  and  his  wound  healed, 
the  idea  took  definite  hold  upon  his  thoughts, 
and  he  began  to  lay  plans  for  getting  out  of  the 
garrison  and  away  from  the  town.    In  his  youth 


33 
he  was  a  trained  gymnast  and  still  possessed  all 
the  strength  and  much  of  the  suppleness  of  those 
days.    Among  the  ancient  Greek  athletes  there 
was  a  feat  seldom  performed  in  modern  times 
It  was  that  of  scaling  a  wall  by  climbing  a  cor- 
ner.   Tins  was  done  by  pressing  the  hands  and 
knees  against  the  sides  of  the  walls  that  formed 
the  angle,  and  by  supple  muscular  power  ascend- 
mg  the  perpendicular  corner.    It  required  great 
strength  of  muscle  and  lightness  of  body  to  do 
this  seemmgly  impossible  feat.    But  in  the  eigh- 
teenth   century  there  were    in  France    several 
youths  who  could  do  it,  and    the    Notary   was 
among  them,  but  now  he  was  considerably  heav- 
ier and  not  proportionally  stronger;  still  he  had 
fully  made  up  his  mind  that  he  could  again  do 
It,  especially  as  this  comer  was  an  acute  angle 
and  the  stone  rough  from  the  quarry.    It  seemed 
to  offer  a  means  of  escape  unsuspected  by  those 
whose  duty  it  was  to  watch  him.    Having  fully 
determined  on  making  the  atempt  as  soon  as 
circumstances  favored,  he  set  about  to  fit  him- 
self for  the  experiment.     He  took  daily  active 
gymnastic  exercise,  much  to  the  amusement  of 
the  soldiers,  who  thought  him  going  crazy     He 
ate  al  the  lean  beef  given  in  his  rations  and  sent 
outside  and  bought  it,  bribing  the  soldiers  to  get 
>t  for  him,  they  thinking  it  simply  an  insane  no- 


tion.  For  weeks  he  kept  this  up  without  excit- 
ing suspicion. 

The  lay  of  the  land  outside  the  walls  of  his 
prison  yard  and  the  garrison  grounds  he  knew 
well  from  former  visits  to  the  town ;  and  from  an 
old  woman  who  peddled  apples  in  the  fort  he 
learned  where  the  sentinels  were  posted  and  their 
beats. 

At  last  he  was  ready  to  make  a  bold  break  for 
liberty.  But  there  was  a  point  first  to  be  gained. 
Kis  sword  had  been  taken  from  him  and  kept 
in  the  armory.  Liberty  without  his  trusty  rapier 
would  be  short  lived.  He  had  seen  it  every  day 
hanging  upon  the  wall,  and  pondered  much  for 
means  of  securing  it,  but  had  not  compassed  a 
plan,  bribery  of  the  guard  seemed  at  last  the  only 
possible  chance  of  getting  the  coveted  weapon. 

At  the  time  he  was  taken  prisoner  at  Nictaux, 
he  was,  and  ever  since  had  been,  clothed  in  the 
suit  of  close-fitting  buckikin  that  we  saw  on  him 
the  day  he  buried  the  box  in  the  sand.  This 
dress  did  not  indicate  to  the  soldiers  anything 
more  than  homely  comfort,  and  for  that  reason 
he  was  not  searched,  but  the  fact  was,  he  had 
stowed  away  in  the  recesses  of  this  outfit  a  large 
sum  of  money  in  the  gold  coin  of  France,  and 
now  he  decided  to  try  its  power  on  the  red-coated 


35 

s<  ntry,  and  but  waited  a  favorable  night  in  which 
to  test  his  loyalty. 

It  came  on  the  first  day  of  November.  The 
day  had  been  unusually  fine,  but  the  night 
brought  a  storm  and  darkness,  and  wind  and 
ram.  This  elemental  war  was  what  he  wished 
for.  It  was  his  best  ally  to  escape.  The  sentry- 
box  of  the  guard  was  at  the  doorway  into  the 
prison  yard,  and  from  it  could  be  seen  the  Vo- 
tary's sword  on  the  wall  of  the  armor/.  About 
midnight  he  went  to  this  door,  with  a  number  of 
gold  coms  in  his  hand,  which  he  held  out  toward 
the  sentinel,  and  pointing  with  the  other  hand 
to  the  long  blade,  said,  "I'll  give  you  all  this  for 
that  rapier  on  the  wall,  and  then  you  will  never 
see  me  more." 

The  soldier  looked  at  the  glittering  coin,  at 
the  sword  in  its  scabbard,  at  the  anxious,  confi- 
dent face  of  his  tempter,  scanned  keenly  the  sur- 
roundings, then  snatched  from  its  hook  the 
strange  weapon,  and  put  it  into  the  hand  of  its 
owner,  at  the  same  time  grasping  the  price  of  his 
perfidy. 

Not  a  word  further  was  spoken  by  either  man 
and  in  less  than  a  minute  the  prisoner  was  in  the 
darkest  part  of  the  dark  yard,  and  making  his 
way  to  the  experimental  corner  in  the  high  wall 
Reachmg  this  place  he  buckled  the  sword  on  so 


mmm 


36 

that  it  hung  at  his  back,  rubbed  his  hands  in  the 
wet  sand  at  his  feet,  then  on  the  outside  of  his 
buckskin  trouser  legs,  drew  in  a  long  breath, 
and  holding  it  pressed  himself  into  the  sharp 
angle  of  the  high  wall  and  scaled  it  like  a  cat. 
Once  on  the  top,  the  descent  was  easy,  as  it 
sloped  off  to  the  grounds  of  the  garrison,  and  in 
a  few  minutes  he  was  walking  the  drive-way 
towards  the  outer  gate.  The  darkness  and  storm 
favored  him.  The  soldier  on  guard  had  taken 
shelter  from  the  storm  in  the  sentry-box  at  one 
side  of  the  open  gateway,  and  did  not  see  him 
till  he  attempted  to  pass  through;  then  giving 
the  challenge  quickly,  presented  his  bayonet  al- 
most to  the  breast  of  the  unreplying  stranger  and 
laid  his  finger  upon  the  trigger  of  his  musket. 
But  the  man  who  had  come  so  suddenly  upon 
him  from  an  unexpected  quarter  was  alert,  and, 
with  a  quick  thrust  of  the  long  blade  in  his  strong 
arm,  laid  the  startlei  sentinel  upon  the  ground, 
and  stepping"  over  his  prostrate  form  passed 
through  the  gjateway  and  was  free  once  more; 
and  made  straight  (as  in  the  darkness  he  could) 
to  the  woods  south  of  the  garrison,  not  daring  to 
trust  himself  to  travel  the  road  or  to  take  shelter 
in  a  house. 

The  great  gun  that  notified  the  country  of 
the  escape  of  a  prisoner  or  of  a  deserter  had  been 


37 
fired  before  he  was  half  a  mile  away,  and  that  left 
no  safety  for  him,  except  in  the  fastness  of  the 
dense  woods.  Into  this  he  plunged,  hastening 
onward  with  no  object  but  to  place  distance  be- 
tween him  and  the  hated  prison  he  had  left.  It 
did  not  take  long  to  do  this,  and  then,  finding 
shelter  under  a  shelving  rock,  he  rested  until 
daylight. 

With  sunrise  the  skies  cleared  and  he  was  able 
to  shape  his  course  for  the  trapper's  hut  to  the 
eastward,  where  he  had  left  his  horse  nearly  two 
months  before.  All  day  long  he  kept  his  course 
through  the  trackless  forest,  and  near  sundown 
came  across  a  pathway  up  the  mountain  side. 

He  soon  convinced  himself  that  this  was  a 
trail  to  the  clearing  he  wished  to  reach,  and  fol- 
lowed it  southward.  It  bore  no  evidence  of  re- 
cent travel  and  this  surprised  him.  At  the  end 
of  the  path  was  the  cabin,  but  no  signs  of  the 
trapper.  On  the  farther  side  of  the  clearing  was 
the  horse  feeding  quietly.  In  the  yard  was  un- 
trodden grass,  in  the  doorway  were  wind-piled 
Autumn  leaves,  and  inside  all  was  as  when  he 
had  left  the  morning  he  started  with  the  child  in 
his  arms  for  Nictaux.  It  was  certain  the  trap- 
per had  not  come  back.  Either  the  soldiers  had 
surprised  and  carried  him  oflf,  or  some  accident 
had  befallen  him  in  the  woods.    The  intelligent 


horse  had  sniffed  his  master  in  the  air  and  came 
])rancing  to  him,  showing  all  the  gladness  possi- 
ble to  express  without  speech.  Autumn  winds 
had  made  breaches  in  the  fence,  but  the  faithful 
beast  had  staid  where  his  master  left  him. 

Hunger  had  been  for  hours  chafing  the  empty 
stomach  of  the  Notary,  and  he  began  to  look 
around  for  some  means  of  satisfying  it.  There 
was  a  small  piece  of  salt  pork  in  the  cabin  and 
outside  plenty  of  potatoes  ripe  for  digging.  With 
the  pistols  which  had  been  left  with  the  saddle, 
he  set  fire  to  some  dry  moss  and  soon  had  a  mess 
of  boiled  potatoes  and  fried  pork.  With  these 
he  made  a  hearty  meal,  and  laid  down  in  the 
trapper's  bunk  and  was  soon  asleep. 

The  sun  shone  above  the  tall  trees  and  gemmed 
the  white  frost  on  the  frozen  grass  of  the  clear- 
ing when  he  awoke  refreshed,  and  collected  his 
distracted  senses  into  a  realization  of  the  situa- 
tion. Here  he  was  in  the  wild  woods  twenty 
miles  from  human  habitation  and  safe  from  pur- 
suit ;  but  safety  alone  did  not  satisfy  his  restless 
ambition,  and  he  soon  decided  to  make  on 
horseback  the  perilous  journey  to  his  country- 
men at  Beaubassin,  a  settlement  at  the  head  of 
the  Bay  of  Fundy,  or  at  Louisburg,  in  Cape 
Breton.  The  first  fifty  miles  of  this  way  must 
necessarily  be  through  that  part  of  the  country 


39 

just  devasuted  by  the  soldiers,  and  was  fraught 
with  the  danger  of  being  killed  ^r  captured  for 
the  reward  he  believed  had  been  offered  for  his 
arrest ;  but  he  liked  adventure  and  did  not  shrink 
from  the  undertaking  on  that  account.  Darkness 
and  his  coal  black  horse  would  be  valuable  allies. 
The  Indians  were  his  friends,  and  his  long  ra- 
pier would  be  his  best  defender.  This  part  of 
the  journey  safely  accomplished  would  land  him 
at  Piziquid,  where  the  British  commander  was 
his  friend.  From  there  to  Beaubassin  the  way 
would  be  difficult  but  not  dangerous.  All  this 
thoughtfully  considered,  he  stoically  left  his 
bough-bunk  determined  to  take  the  journey. 

The  day  was  spent  in  making  ready  for  the 
ride  to  Piziquid.  The  remainder  of  the  pork  was 
boiled  and  a  few  potatoes  also.  From 
coarse  flour  he  mixed  and  hard-baked  some  bis- 
cuits, and  stowed  all  in  the  leather  saddle-bags. 
Then  as  the  sun  neared  the  horizon  and  settled 
behind  the  tall  trees  he  saddled  the  black  horse 
and  leading  him  by  the  bridle,  left  the  solitary 
cabin,  and  slowly  pursued  the  narrow  pathway 
among  the  crisp  autumn  leaves  toward  the  main 
road,  which  he  reached  just  as  darkness  settled 
over  the  land ;  then  mounting,  he  rode  swift  and 
silently  eastward.  All  night  he  kept  the  saddle 
and  hastened  over  the  lonely  rough  way.  and  at 


mm 


40 

day-dawn  concealed  himself  in  the  thick  wood 
away  from  the  road. 

The  second  night's  ride  must  be  through  the 
ruined  village  of  Grand  Pre,  where,  he  learned 
from  an  Indian,  there  were  soldiers  on  the  look- 
out to  capture  him,  as  he  was  now  charged  with 
the  murder  of  the  sentinel  at  the  garrison,  and 
the  price  of  fifty  pounds  was  set  upon  his  head. 
This,  however,  did  not  deter  him,  as  he  had  con- 
fidence in  horse  and  sword  to  carry  ■'■  m  safely 
through. 

It  was  near  midnight  when  he  reached  its  out- 
skirts and  dismounted  to  allow  his  horse  to 
gather  fresh  energies  for  the  three-mile  dash 
through  the  village  and  over  the  bridge  across 
the  Gaspereau  River.  There  were  several  roads, 
but  one  only  that  led  directly  to  the  bridge,  and 
that  was  the  main  street,  on  or  near  which  the 
principal  dwellings  had  been  built  This  way 
he  decided  to  take,  although  most  likely  to  be  pa- 
trolled by  soldiers  quartered  among  the  ruins, 
on  the  lookout  for  the  fugitives  who  had  fled  to 
the  bush ;  but  it  was  smooth  and  hard  and  there- 
by best  suited  for  the  speed  he  intended  to  make. 

Having  rested  for  half  an  hour  and  seen  to  it 
that  every  equipment  of  horse  and  rider  was 
made  secure,  he  mounted,  and  touching  with  un- 


^  ': 


41 

armed  heel  the  flank  of  his  spirited  courser  was 
off  with  the  speed  of  a  startled  stag. 

The  night  was  dark,  save  the  glint  from  far 
away  stars  set  in  a  cloudless  sky,  outlining  the 
charred  and  jumbled  ruins  of  burnt  dwellings 
that  looked  in  the  ghostly  light  like  blotches  up- 
on the  fair  fields.  And  it  was  still,  except  the 
noise  of  his  horse's  feet  on  the  gravelly  road  and 
occasional  skurrying  of  startled  cattle  grazing 
among  the  brands  of  demolished  homes. 

On  through  this  black  desolation  went  the 
stout  horse  till  the  bridge  was  reached,  then  sud- 
denly stood  still  and  snorted  as  if  alarmed.  He 
had  seen  before  his  keen-eyed  master  had  that 
the  entrance  to  the  bridge  was  guarded  by  a 
squad  of  mounted  cavalry  in  full  uniform  of  the 
regular  army  with  sabres  drawn  as  if  expecting 
his  master's  arrival.  As  the  noise  of  his  own 
horse's  feet  died  away,  the  Notary  distinctly 
heard  behind  him  the  sound  of  many  hoofs,  and 
realized  that  he  was  in  a  trap.  Horsemen  in 
front,  horsemen  behind,  and  no  side  retreat. 

Direful  as  was  the  prospect  and  deadly,  as  al- 
most certain,  seemed  the  outcome,  the  brave 
horseman  did  not  despair;  but  coolly  counted  the 
drawn  sabres  ahead  of  him  and  listened  to  the 
clatter  of  approaching  horsemen  in  his  rear; 
then  fixing  more  firmly  his  feet  in  the  c'.irrups,  he 


4* 

tightened  his  grip    upon    the    bridle,    plucked 
from  its  scabbard  the  long  rapier  and  grating  his 
firm-sot  teeth,  was  ready  to  make  a  desperate 
dash  for  liberty,  or  death  in  fighting  for  it ;  then 
pressing  hard  his  horse's  flanks,  leaned  forward 
to  breast  the  expected  impetus,  but  the  hitherto 
obedient  beast  stood  stoically  still,  and  giving  a 
wild  savage  neigh,  reared  his  great  sinewy  form 
almost  erect  upon  his  hind  legs,  and  uttered  the 
terrifying  bellow  of  the  wild  stallions  of  the  desert 
when  enraged;  then  jerking  the  bridle  from  his 
rider's  grasp,  he  bounded  forward  in  great  leaps 
and  stamped  the  foremost  horse  to  the  ground  as 
if  it  had  been  a  harmless  cow,  seizing  at  the  same 
time  in  his  great  jaws  a  horseman  slatted  him 
as  a  dog  does  a  reptile ;  then  with  foam-flecked 
mouth  distended,  and  ears  laid  back,  he  stamped 
through  and  over  the  terror-stricken  squad  of 
hirelings  as  triumphantly  as  if  they  were  a  flock 
of  timid  sheep;  and  with  the  speed  of  thought 
swept  over  the  bridge,  along  the  dark  but  famil- 
iar road  to  Piziquid,  and  did  not  slacken  his  wild 
career  till  many  miles  from  the  strange  encounter 
and  secure  in  the  darkness  from  pursuit. 

It  had  required  all  the  Notary's  skill  of  horse- 
manship to  enable  him  to  keep  the  saddle,  and 
he  was  glad  when  his  mad  courser  at  last,  of  his 
own  bidding,  stopped.    If  ever  mortal  man  was 


43 

grateful  to  beast,  the  Notary  was  to  the  noble 
animal  that  had  so  unaccountably  saved  his  life. 
He  patted  his  foaming  neck,  with    kind   words 
coaxed  him  back  from  his  fierce  frenzy,  and  tried 
to  find  the  cause  of  such  strange  behavior     And 
he  thought  he  did  by  recalling  the  fact,  that  the 
animal  had  been  captured  at  the  head  of  his  wild 
troop  in  the  Ukraine  country,  by  a  company  of 
Cossack  cavalry,  in  uniform  very  like  the  squad 
that  had  so  enraged  him.    Whether  or  not,  this 
was  the  true  cause  of  the  almost  miraculous'con- 
duct  of  the  beast  may  be  matter  of  conjecture  for 
the  reader.    It  satisfied  the  Notary,  as  he  had  in 
mmd  a  memorable  cavalry  charge  of  modem 
times  where  horses  without  riders  charged  furi- 
ously upon  the  e-r-1,.  and  fought  madly  with 
teeth  and  hec,  j      so  the  horse  in  Holy 

Writ  so  grapn^cai.,  ,.a...ayed  as  "he  goeth  forth 
to  meet  the  armed  men"  .  .  .  "tumeth  not 
back  from  the  sword"  .  .  .  "Swalloweth  the 
ground  with  fierceness  and  rage"  "Saith 

among  th,  trumpets  ha!  ha!  And  smelleth  the 
battle  afar  oflF." 


CHAPTER  III. 


The  Sagamore  found  no  difficulty  in  making 
his  way  through  the  forest  to  his  people  at  Nic- 
taux,  where  he  found  the  little  child  safe  and 
well.  To  his  mind  now  the  mysterious  talk  of 
the  Notary  in  the  storm,  made  the  child  an  ob- 
ject of  strange  concern.  The  box  in  the  sand, 
the  shadow  and  the  moon-cycle,  were  all  linked 
with  the  life  of  the  little  waif,  so  solemnly  en- 
trusted to  his  care;  and  he  determined  to  obey 
with  savage  certainty  every  request  of  his  friend. 

Pursuing  this  resolve,  he  made  from  the  mys- 
tic red  cedar  a  slender  strip  about  four  feet  in 
length  and  tasked  himself  to  cut  in  it  one  notch 
for  every  full  moon  thereafter,  leaving  a  space 
between  every  twelve.  This  slip  of  wood  was 
carefully  guarded  in  his  ovim  camp,  and  no  one 
but  himself  allowed  to  touch,  or  to  have  any 
knowledge  why  he  kept  it. 

After  eight  years  he  broke  up  the  encampment 
and  moved  with  his  people  to  the  old  hunting 
ground  of  his  tribe,  near  where  had  been  the  vil- 
lage of  Grand  Pre.   Only  the  great  meadows  won 


f 


45 

from  the  sea  and  the  roaring,  foaming  tide  of  the 
wide  blue  Basin  were  the  same  as  when  he  last 
dwelt  there. 

Immigrants  from  New  England  and  old  Eng- 
land, attracted  hither  by  the  King's  offer  of  a 
free  grant,  had  possessed  themselves  of  some  of 
the  farms,  had  put  new  buildings  on  the  old 
sites  and  introduced  new  manners  and  customs. 
With  these  people  the  Sagamore  hesitated  to 
make  friends.  To  his  rough  sense  of  justice  they 
had  no  right  to  the  rich,  cultivated  farms  they 
were  enjoying  without  price,  while  the  men  who 
made  them  were  castaways  in  the  world. 

Here  and  there  in  the  neighborhood  of  his 
camp  vyras  a  French  family  that  had  escaped  to 
the  woods  at  the  capture,  had  returned  and  taken 
the  oath  of  allegiance  to  the  English  King  and 
now  occupied  their  own  lands.  These  families 
the  Sagamore  knew,  and  it  was  chiefly  to  give 
them  charge  of  the  child's  education  that  he  came 
here. 

With  their  children  the  little  girl  spent  much 
of  her  time  during  the  day,  but  at  night  always 
she  slept  in  the  wigwam  of  the  Sagamore.  She 
was  healthy  and  pretty  and  attracted  general  at- 
tention in  the  settlement.  "Lete"  was  what  the 
Indians  called  her,  and  no  one  thought  of  asking 
her  other  name.    The  child  herself  did  not  know 


46 

it,  nor  did  the  wise  Sagamore.  That  much  only 
had  he  learned  from  the  Notary,  and  made  no 
further  question. 

Time  wore  along,  and  at  the  age  of  twelve 
years  the  wild  beauty  of  the  white  Indian  girl 
was  remarkable,  while  the  readiness  with  which 
she  mastered  both  French  and  English  aston- 
ished her  teachers  and  pleased  the  Sagamore, 
who  could  himself  speak  each  of  these  languages 
fairly  well. 

About  this  time  there  came  to  the  little  road- 
side inn  of  the  village  near  nightfall,  a  stranger, 
and  engaged  lodgings  for  the  night.  This  was 
no  unusual  event.  Strangers  came  and  went 
daily — some  came  to  stay,  others  to  view  the 
land,  and  yet  others  for  no  avowed  purpose.  The 
whole  settlement  was  a  strange  neighborhood  of 
people  strangers  to  each  other  and  of  aifferent 
habits. 

But  this  comer  was  a  man  to  attract  attention 
and  arouse  suspicion.  He  was  fully  six  feet  and 
a  half  tall,  square  shouldered,  deep-chested, 
straight  and  athletic-looking.  His  large,  well- 
shaped  head,  covered  with  light  curly  hair,  was 
carried  proudly  as  a  mountain  stag's.  His  fea- 
tures were  regular,  and  the  whole  face  massive, 
handsome  and  stem.  He  was  one  of  those  men 
upon  whom  the  eye  lingers  with  that  look  of 


47 

mingled  wonder  and  admiration  people  call  a 
stare.  His  speech  betrayed  his  nativity.  He  was 
a  Scotchman,  sure ;  and  his  bearing  raised  a  well- 
grounded  suspicion  that  he  was  a  deserter  from 
the  British  Army.  At  the  inn  he  asked  few 
questions  and  answered  few,  for  no  one  of  the 
many  callers  at  the  little  hostlery  ventured  to 
seek  his  acquaintance. 

The  next  day  after  his  arrival  the  stranger 
walked  alone  about  the  neighborhood,  spending 
many  hours  on  the  shore  of  the  Basin,  watching 
the  rush  of  the  tide  as  it  came  and  went  over  the 
great  mud  flats  and  dashed  against  the  rough 
shores.  On  his  return  to  the  inn  he  asked  what 
made  this  terrible  on-rush  of  water  and  high  flow 
of  tide.  "The  Bay  of  Fundy"  was  all  the  answer 
he  received,  and  that,  to  the  minds  of  the  settlers 
was  a  sufficient  explanation  for  any  freak  of  Na- 
ture or  outburst  of  elemental  singularity. 

There  were  still  some  good  farms  in  the  vicin- 
ity of  the  old  village  to  be  had  from  the  Govern- 
ment for  the  asking,  but  the  strang<;r  either  did 
not  care  for  a  farm,  or  did  not  want  what  must  be 
asked  for  at  Halifax.  So  after  a  few  days'  wan- 
dering about  the  settlements,  he  "pre-empted"  a 
little  clearing  of  nearly  three  acres,  half  a  mile 
distant  from  the  village.  This  field  was  a  slope 
of  alluvial  loam  washed  from  a  cluster  of  rocky 


Siilii 


hills  nearly  surrounding  it,  and  had  been  cleared 
and  cultivated  by  some  Acadian  farmer  for  rais- 
ing root  crops. 

In  one  of  these  rocky  hillsides  there  was  a 
cave-like  opening.  This  spot  the  stranger  chose 
for  his  dwelling,  and  purchasing  rough  materials 
and  some  tnnls  he  constructed  with  his  own 
hands  a  cabin,  three  sides  of  which  were  cliflF. 
To  this  grotto-like  dwelling  he  took  some  rude 
furniture,  a  full  hunter'  outfit  and  there  lived 
alone. 

Most  of  his  time  was  spent  in  the  cultivation 
of  the  little  field,  where  he  raised  vegetables  and 
small  fruits  of  excellent  quality.  Often  he  was 
seen  in  pursuit  of  game,  which  he  shot  only  for 
food,  and  frequently  gave  it  away  to  the  poor 
settlers.  He  was  civil  to  all,  but  certainly  not 
sociable.  None  of  the  settlers  knew  his  name, 
but  they  called  him  "Big  Scott,"  and  he  good- 
naturedly  answered  to  it  when  he  had  occasion, 
which  was  seldom. 

Since  the  days  of  the  possession  of  this  land 
by  the  prosperous  French  Acadians,  man's  pro- 
ductive energy,  and  the  ever  chafing  elements 
have  combined  to  greatly  change  the  coast  line 
and  irregular  shores  of  the  Basin  of  Mines  from 
what  it  then  was. 
At  that  time,  near  where  is  now  the  classical 


49 

village  of  Wolfville,  there  was  a  deep  gorge  into 
the  land,  generally  called  a  creek,  into  which  the 
water  from  the  Basin,  long  since  diked  out,  came 
and  went  with  the  tide.    Near  the  land  end  of 
this  channel  the  shores  widened  into  a  small  bay 
of  about  an  acre  in  area,  with  what  is  rare  in  that 
locality,  a  pebbly  bottom ;  <vhile  the  outer  end  of 
the  creek  and  surrounding  shores  were  red  mud. 
At  low  tide  there  was  no  water  in  any  part  of  this 
little  basin,  while  at  full  tide  there  was  from  fif- 
teen to  thirty  feet  over  its  bed.   About  the  middle 
of  this  pond  there  was  an  outcrop  of  the  under- 
lying rock  of  the  country,  broken  and  jumbled 
into  a  heap  of  about  eight  feet  at  its  highest  point, 
forming  a  small  island  at  some  stages  of  the  tide, 
and  at  others  many  feet  under  water. 

This  rocky  ledge  was  strewn  with  shells  and 
vemed  sea-worn  pebblies  of  great  variety;  and 
at  absolute  low  water  the  children  of  the  settle- 
ment could  see  no  reason  why  they  might  not  go 
and  gather  these  pretty  toys.  But  such  was  the 
treachery  of  the  tide  that  their  parents  and  teach- 
ers had  strictly  forbidden  them  to  go  at  any  time 
upon  the  tempting  ledge. 

The  seventeenth  day  of  June,  1765,  was  a  year 
after  the  Scotchman  had  taken  up  his  abode  in 
the  village.  There  was  this  day  a  wedding  in  the 
httle  church  on  the  hill,  and  many  of  the  people 


il 


:f  ::i!i 


ill 


50 

mostly  women  and  children,  went  to  see  the 
bride  and  the  ceremony.  After  the  marriage  was 
over  a  group  of  children  went  to  play  along  the 
margin  of  the  little  basin.  The  bottom  was  dry 
and  the  children  wanted  to  go  to  the  rocky  ledge 
and  get  some  of  the  coveted  curios.  With  these 
children  was  Lete,  the  little  wild  giri,  as  she  was 
called,  and  liked  the  breezy  nickname. 

Her  forest  life  had  made  her  bold  and  daring, 
and  she  went  to  the  rocks  against  the  warnings 
of  her  companions.  The  tide  was  coming  in  and 
could  be  seen  down  the  creek ;  but  the  child  did 
not  know  the  rapidity  of  its  approach.  She 
climbed  the  rocks,  and  in  the  engagement  of 
grathering  the  forbidden  treasures  forgot  to  watch 
the  water,  till  aroused  by  the  dash  of  the 
tide's  preceding  wave  against  the  base  of  the  reef. 
She  then  clambered  quickly  down  its  side,  but  it 
was  too  late;  already  she  was  on  an  island  and 
the  water  too  deep  to  wade. 

AH  she  had  heard  of  the  swift  tide  and  its  dan- 
gerous eddies,  came  now  quickly  to  her  thoughts, 
and  climbing  to  the  highest  part  of  the  ledge  she 
stood  watching  the  foaming  water,  as  it  swirled 
around  the  rocks  and  spread  away  so  wide  and 
deep,  but  a  low  bewildering  cry  was  all  the  sign 
of  fear  she  gave. 

Her  playmates   spread  the  alarm,  and  from 


it  i) 


m 


5« 

every  part  of  the  settlement  came  men  and 
women  in  haste  to  rescue  the  child.  There  was 
no  boat  near,  and  by  the  time  the  first  man 
reached  the  shore,  a  wide  girdle  of  turbulent 
water  was  about  the  reef  and  surging  shoreward. 
Outside  in  the  Bay  there  was  a  storm  that  in- 
creased the  rapidity  and  tumultuous  on-rush  of 
the  pent-up  water  in  the  creek.  The  men  knew 
its  treacherous  eddies  and  strong  undertow,  but 
they  were  brave  and  sturdy  and  pushing  into  it 
waded  for  the  ledge,  now  surrounded  breast-high, 
but  only  to  be  thrown  off  their  feet  and  swept 
shoreward.  Again,  and  again,  they  tried  in  vain 
to  ford  the  swirling  current.  Nothing  but  a  boat 
could  render  aid,  and  there  was  none. 

Only  a  couple  of  feet  of  the  ledge  now  ap- 
peared above  the  waves,  and  on  this  stood  the 
child,  mute  as  the  rocks  beneath  her.  Presently 
she  stretched  out  her  hands  and  gave  a  wild  shout 
that  startled  the  helpless  crowd  upon  the  shore, 
and  rang  far  out  over  the  land.  Still  holding  her 
arms  out  she  repeated  the  cry,  and  gazed  steadily 
over  the  heads  of  the  people  in  the  direction  of 
her  outstretc  .  A  arms.  All  eyes  followed  the 
appealing  arms  and  saw,  coming  across  the  field 
with  the  strides  of  a  startled  moose,  the  big 
Scotchman,  throwing  oflF  his  outer  garments  as 
he  ran,  and  clearing  a  fence  at  a  single  bound,  he 


'U 


dashed  into  the  foam-crested  water,  and  threw  it 
from  his  great  sinewy  legs  like  spray  from  a 
ship's  prow.  On  into  the  swirls  and  eddies  h- 
went,  planting  his  great  feet  firmly  and  bending 
his  broad  breast  against  the  current  that  parted 
round  him  as  if  he  were  a  pillar  of  stone.  Higher 
and  higher  rose  the  angry  water;  deeper  and 
deeper  into  it  went  the  strong  man,  breathlessly 
watched  by  the  astonished  and  anxious  specta- 
tors. Shoulder-high  he  stood;  and  a  curling 
wave  dashed  over  his  head  still  held  firmly  above 
the  tide.  Then  there  was  a  faint  cry  from  the 
child  as  a  higher  wave  swept  her  from  the  now 
submerged  rock,  but  within  reach  of  the  long, 
muscular  arms,  that  struck  out  over  the  surface 
and  grasped  her  before  she  could  sink.  With  the 
ease  of  an  expert  swimmer  the  stout  man  turned 
upon  his  back  with  the  child  on  his  breast  and 
his  feet  toward  the  shore,  and  keeping  himself 
afloat  allowed  the  tide  to  drift  him  shoreward  till 
the  water  was  shallow  enough  to  wade.  Then 
giving  the  aflrighted  girl  into  the  care  of  the 
women,  he  walked  away  before  any  one  had 
thought  to  thank  him,  or  even  speak  to  him,  so 
bewildering  was  the  streng^th  and  courage  he  had 
displayed,  and  their  joy  at  the  rescue  of  the  child. 
Next  day  the  Sag^amore  and  Lete  went  to  the 
Scotchman's  place  to  thank  him  for  his  brave 


53 
deed.    He  was  in  his  cabin  and  asked  them  to 
come  in.    To  no  one  in  the  year  he  had  lived 
there  had  he  ever  extended  this  social  favor. 

Once  inside  the  rude  rock  hut,  the  Chief  felt 
himself  at  ease  and  in  few  but  expressive  words 
spoke  his  gratitude  for  saving  the  child.    In  the 
forest  tramps  for  game  these  men  had  met  be- 
J  fore  and  exchanged  friendly  salutations.     The 

Sagamore  had  liked  the  Scotchman  because  he 
was  tall  and  strong  like  the  great  trees  of  the 
forest,  and  because  he  did  not  talk  too  much; 
and  for  the  exact  same  reasons  the  Scotchman 
had  friendly  feelings  towards  the  Sagamore. 

While  in  her  perilous  perch  on  the  rocks  the 
child  had  witnessed  her  deliverer's  conquest  of 
the  raging  tide  that  had  tossed  other  men  like 
bits  of  cork  upon  its  surface,  and  she  felt  that 
there  was  not  another  so  grand  a  man  in  all  the 
worid  as  this  big  Highlander,  and  in  the  childish 
simplicity  of  her  grateful  heart  climbed  upon  his 
stout  knees  and  kissed  his  swarthy  cheeks ;  and 
the  big  blue  eyes  moistened  and  had  a  far-away 
look  as  he  reminiscently  smoothed  her  glossy 
brown  hair  and  scanned  her  face  inquiringly. 

The  interview  was  characteristic  of  the  men. 
Every  word  spoken  was  sincere,  and  the  Redman 
went  away  to  his  wigwam  feeling  for  the  first 
time  in  his  life  that  he  had  met  a  greater  Brave 


■  m 

■it 


'It 


54 
than  himself.     After  this  the  two  men  often 
joined  in  the  hunt  and  were  much  together  and 
very  friendly. 

The  desire  of  the  men  in  the  settlement  to  be 
intimate  with  the  Scotchman  now  increased,  but 
with  no  one  of  them  was  he  more  than  civil. 
The  door  of  his  cave-dwelling  was  strongly  fas- 
tened whenever  he  was  not  inside,  and  when  he 
was,  no  man  dared  ask  admittance,  or  expected 
invitement. 

Three  years  later,  in  the  summer  of  1768,  the 
first  vessel  was  to  be  launched  on  the  placid 
water  of  the  Basin  of  Mines,  where  since  hun- 
dreds of  gallant  craft  have  made  their  maiden 
plunge  into  the  briny  element.  The  vessel  was 
a  large  Brig  and  had  her  masts  put  in  while  on 
the  ways. 

It  was  the  custom  in  England  in  those  days, 
and  in  British  possessions,  for  the  owner  of  the 
vessel  to  give  a  dinner  on  the  day  of  the  launch- 
ing, and  all,  far  and  near,  were  free  to  come  and 
see  the  launch  and  eat  their  fill  of  homi './  nutri- 
tious food.  It  was  late  in  October  when  the  day 
for  launching  was  set,  and  late  in  that  day  when 
the  tide  suited  for  setting  the  great  craft  afloat. 
Nearly  all  the  people  of  the  settlement,  young 
and  old,  were  in  and  about  the  ship-yard  when 
the  water  of  the  Basin  'apped  the  highest  rim  of 


55 

its  rugged  shore,   and  waited  the   impulse  to 
recede. 

The  wild  girl  Lete  had  been  chosen  to  stand  on 
her  deck  when  launched,  to  break  the  bottle  of 
wine  and  unfurl  the  flag  at  the  masthead  on 
which  was  the  name.  This  was  called  christen- 
ing the  ship,  and  it  was  considered  an  honor. 

Dressed  like  the  daughter  of  a  Micmac  Chief 
she  stood  on  the  deck  and  waited  the  command, 
"Knock  out  the  wedges"  to  be  given  by  the 
master-builder.  Presently  it  came,  and  the  clean- 
modelled  craft  glided  over  the  smoking  ways  and 
struck  the  water  as  buoyant  as  a  sea-loon.  As 
she  r  -e  from  the  plunge  Lete  smashed  the  bot- 
tle the  bowsprit,  jerked  the  cord,  and  the 
flat,  .streamed  to  the  breeze  showing  the  name 
"Senemqua,"  which  is  the  Micmac  for  wild 
goose. 

During  the  afternoon  while  waiting  the  hour 
for  the  launch,  there  were  groups  of  men,  debat- 
ing with  the  earnestness  bom  of  dread,  a  subject 
known  to  but  few  of  the  assembled  people.  A 
rumor  that  day  had  reached  the  village  that  a 
band  of  Mohawk  Indians  had  been  seen  in  the 
neighborhood.  These  dreaded  natives  were  from 
the  country  about  the  Hudson  River,  and  were 
cruel,  relentless  savages.  Many  times  during 
the  last  fifty  years  marauding  bands  of  this  tribe 


ii 


'/^ 


k 


56 

had  killed  and  robbed  the  white  settlers  of  Aca- 
dia, and  made  bloody  ravages  among  the  less 
warlike  Micmacs. 

After  the  new  ship  was  securely  moored  and 
congratulations  over;  the  people  sat  down  to  a 
good  dinner;  then  there  was  dancing  on  rough 
boards  spread  upon  the  green  sod,  and  the  lively 
music  and  clatter  of  nimble  feet  dispelled  for  the 
time  all  thought  of  the  dreaded  Mohawks ;  and 
it  was  dusk  when  the  music  ceased  and  the  light- 
hearted  people  left  for  their  several  homes  scat- 
tered over  many  miles  of  sparcely  settled  country. 

The  old  Port  Royal  road  lay  like  a  backbone 
through  the  whole  settlement.  Along  this  high- 
way to  the  westward  had  been  the  most  thickly 
settled  part  of  the  village  of  Grand  Pre ;  and  now 
was  the  road  homeward  for  most  of  the  party. 
Numbering  about  one  hundred  at  the  outset, 
they  gradually  dropped  away  as  their  homes  or 
the  branch  roads  that  led  to  them  were  reached. 

When  some  three  miles  had  been  thus  travelled 
there  remained  but  about  twenty — mostly  women 
and  children,  whose  homes  were  beyond. 

Among  the  few  men  was  the  big  Scotchman. 
He  had  taken  much  interest  in  the  building  of 
the  ship,  and  spent  a  portion  of  nearly  every  day 
in  the  yard,  often  lending  a  helping  hand  when 
some  heavy  timber  was  to  be  put  in  place.    With 


57 

the  children  was  Lete,  pretty  and  proud  of  the 
favors  shown  her  that  day. 

Near  a  strip  of  thick  forest  through  which  they 
must  pass,  stood  the  ruins  of  the  first  French 
chapel  built  in  that  part  of  the  country.    It  had 
been  set  on  fire  at  the  time  of  the  destruction  of 
Grand  Pre  and  most  of  the  woodwork  burned. 
But  the  walls  had  been  built  of  rough  stone  laid 
m  clay  mortar  and  remained  standing.    This  clay 
was  not  a  cement,  and  the  walls  were  in  conse- 
quence made  very  thick.    The  end  wall  opposite 
the  door  was  about  four  feet  thick  and  rose 
above  one  of  the  gables  in  shape  of  a  turret  to 
the  height  of  thirty  feet  from  its  base.     The 
great  timbers  that  held  the  side  walls  together 
had  not  been  burned  and  still  girded  the  weather- 
beaten  sides  of  the  grim  ruins;  but  this  turret 
wall  had  no  support  except  its  foundation  and 
comer  connections.    Time  and  storms  had  weak- 
ened the  mortar,  and  cattle  and  sheep  enjoying 
Its  mvitmg  shade  in  sunny  summer  days,  had 
trodden  away  the  ground  about  its  base,  and  the 
great  rough  mass  leaned  outward  and  but  waited 
some  impulse  to  send  it  crashing  to  the  earth. 

As  the  little  group  of  settlers  passed  near  to 
these  rums  they  discussed  the  probability  of  its 
tumble  at  any  time,  and  kept  at  a  safe  distance 


^1 


i  I 


58 

Hardly  had  it  been  passed,  when  from  the 
woods  near  by  a  wild,  savage  yell  chilled  their 
hearts,  and  the  next  minute  long  feather-winged 
arrows  whizzed  around  and  among  them,  wound- 
ing several.  There  was  no  mistakmg  this  war- 
whoop.  Some  of  them  had  heard  it  before  to 
their  sorrow.  It  was  the  blood-curdling  yell  of 
the  Mohawks.  The  crumbling  walls  of  the  old 
church  offered  the  only  refuge  at  hand  and  within 
them  the  frightened  people  huddled  and  quickly 
barricaded  the  doorway  with  ends  of  burned  tim- 
bers, that  lay  amongst  the  long  joists  that  once 
supported  a  floor. 

The  openings  in  the  wall  where  had  been  the 
windows,  were  too  high  for  entrance  from  the 
ground.  Here  at  least  was  a  shelter  from  the 
arrows,  but  the  savages  would  certainly  scale  the 
walls  and  enter  at  the  windows.  From  cracks  in 
the  weather-worn  masonry  the  Indians  could  be 
seen  about  thirty  in  number,  cautiously  ap- 
proaching the  walls  within  which  their  victi-i 
had  so  suddenly  disappeared.  Warily  they  cir- 
cled the  ruins  in  search  of  an  opening.  The  win- 
dows were  too  high  and  the  doorway  strongly 
fortified.  The  wily  villians  then  crept  together 
under  cover  of  the  great  end  wall,  through  which 
there  was  no  opening  for  the  discharge  of  fire- 
arms that  their  victims  might,  for  aught  they 


59 

knew,  possess.    Close  to  its  base  they  crowded 
and  debated  how  to  get  inside. 

The  Scotchman,  through  a  crack  in  the  comer 
of  the  walls  had  been  watching  the  movements  of 
the  Savages,  and  as  soon  as  they  were  well  seated 
on  the  ground,  he  seized  a  long,  heavy  oak  beam, 
that  stretched  from  wall  to  wall,  and  placing  one 
end  on  the  ground  about  midway  between  the 
sides,  called  on  the  men  to  hold  this  end  down. 
Then  bracing  himself  firmly,  he  raised  the  huge 
timber  hand  over  hand  to  a  perpendicu!-  r  posi- 
tion, poised  it  a  minute  then  straightening  his 
great  arms,  sent  it  with  tremendous  force  against 
the  nodding  wall. 

There  was  a  quiver  of  the  tottering  mass,  a 
cloud  of  dust,  and  down  went  the  tall  pile,  with  a 
roar  and  crash  that  brought  screams  of  terror 
from  the  women  and  children,  mingled  with 
groans  and  wild  cries  of  agony  from  the  heap  of 
stones  and  mortar,  where  a  minute  before  had 
been  seated  in  confident  security  the  savage 
marauders. 

Following  up  his  victory,  the  stem  man  ran 
quickly  out  and  with  great  stones  put  to  death 
the  few  survivors  of  the  tremendous  deadfall  he 
had  sprung  with  such  fatal  success.  Then  ac- 
companying the  terror-stricken  people  to  their 
respective  homes  he  went  alone  to  his  grotto  in 


I  n<<^ 


the  rocky  hillside  and  for  many  days  did  not  ap- 
%?„;Sr\ti^ardorsee„oftheMohawWs^ 
If  there  were  others  skulking  in  the  woods  they 
learned  the  fate  of  their  villainous  companions 
and  fled  the  country. 


6i 


CHAPTER  IV. 


We  left  the  Notary  and  his  crazed  stallion  in 
the  security  of  forest  ambuscade  "sobering-off" 
from  the  furious  ride  and  recruiting  for  further 
perilous  adventure. 

It  was  day  dawn  when  the  Notary  arrived  at 
Piziquid  and  found,  as  he  had  hoped,  the  military 
commander  still  friendly,  although  he  had  taken 
reluctant  part  in  the  expulsion  of  Acadians  from 
his  commandery. 

A  day's  rest  here,  and  he  started  for  the  forest 
trail  to  Beaubassin,  first  providing  himself  with 
hard  biscuit  for  horse  and  rider,  and  a  heavy  steel 
tomahawk  with  which  to  lop  away  impeding 
boughs  and  underbrush,  and  provide  fuel  for 
camp  fires.  Three  days  travel,  leading  his  horse 
much  of  the  way  through  thick  underwood, 
brought  him  to  what  had  been  the  town  of  Beau- 
bassin ;  but  was  now  a  desolation.  The  enemy 
had  been  there  and  burned  the  buildings  and 
were  still  patrolling  the  neighborhood  in  wait  for 
the  return  of  fugitives  who  had  fled  to  the  woods, 
and  in  the  hope  of  capturing  the  bold  French- 


F(  - 


<   \ 


■II 


. 


^1' 
11' 


6a 
man  who  had  escaped  from  the  Garrison  at  Port 
Royal  and  killed  the  sentry  on  guard. 

This  left  him  no  alternative  but  to  contmue  the 
journey  through  the  woods  to  a  settlement  of  his 
people  on  the  Straits  of  Canso,  a  distance  of 
about  one  hundred  and  thirty  miles;  and  from 
there,  if  possible,  get  passage  by  vessel  to  Louis- 
burg  in  Isle  Royal  (now  Cape  Breton),  the  then 
French  Strong-hold  in  America. 

Through  this  wilderness  there  had  at  one  time 
been  cut  a  military  roadway,  by  the  lopping  of 
branches  that  stretched  too  low  for  horsemen  to 
ride  under  with  safety.  Little  else  was  needed  to 
make  this  road,  for  the  trees  were  of  immense 
size,  set  far  apart,  with  no  underbrush,  and  mter- 
spersed  with  long,  wide  vistas  of  hard  level  sur- 
face, through  which  horsemen  could  ride  for 
miles  without  obstruction. 

This  roadway  had  been  seldom  travelled  since 
made ;  but  remained  sufficiently  open  to  be  easily 
kept,  by  one  experienced  in  the  following  of 
trails,  it  ran  through  a  forest  ages  older  geolog- 
ically than  the  Acadian  woods  the  Notary  had 
hitherto  frequented ;  and  was  prowled  by  fierce 
beasts  of  prey  not  to  be  there  found.  Notably 
among  these  was  the  great  American  panther  or 
jaguar,  a  ferocious  beast  of  the  cat  family  about 
six  feet  long,  now  near;     extinct,  that  lay-wait 


63 

among  the  branches  of  trees  and  sprung  una- 
wares upon  its  prey.    This  treacherous  brute  was 
the  most  dreaded  by  man  of  all  the  wild  animals 
of  the  woods.   There  is  now  little  left  of  this  truly 
"forest  primeval"  except  calcined  remains  of  its 
monster  pines,  stretched  a  hundred  or  more  feet 
along  the  ground  among  the  newer  growth  of 
small  timber,  that  now  covers  the  unsettled  parts 
of  this  same  fragmentary  eastern  end,  of  that  old 
laurentide  ridge  of  land,  that  first  appeared  above 
the  water  of  the  vast   undivided,   unexplored 
ocean,  and  formed  the  backbone  of  what  is  now 
the  continent  of  North  America ;  older  by  aeons 
than  other  parts  of  the  Province  of  No^^  Scotia. 
Through  this  wild  country,  along  this  rough 
roadway,  the  Notary  took  his  course  about  noon 
of  the  next  day  after  his  arrival  at  Beaubassin. 
Huge  pines  towered  aloft  above  him,  gigantic 
oaks  and  beeches  flung  great  branches,  of  centu- 
ries of  growth,  across  his  path,  and  ripe  wild 
grasses  and  many  colored  Autumn  leaves  cov- 
ered the  ground  in  all  directions.    It  was  indeed 
a  venturesome  undertaking  with  cheerless  pros- 
pect, and  depressing  environment ;  but  it  suited 
the  mood  and  exigence  of  the  fugitive  horseman, 
as  he  sped  along  the  untrodden  ground  confident 
of  ability  to  cope  successfully  with  any  adventure 
that  might  overtake  him.     Near  sundown  he 


lib 


m 


came  upon  a  long  stretch  of  open  ground,  level 
as  far  as  his  eye  could  reach,  and  drew  in  his 
horse  to  dismount  and  prepare  to  spend  the  first 
night  on  a  bed  of  boughs,  when  suddenly  his 
horse  stopped  and  seemed  alarmed.  The  next 
moment  there  rang  out  upon  the  still  air  a  noise 
so  dismal  and  loud  that  it  made  both  horse  and 
rider  shiver  'v-th  dread.  Looking  in  the  direction 
of  the  sound,  the  Notary  saw  sitting  on  its 
haunches  directly  ahead  of  him  in  the  road,  what 
he  thought  was  a  large  dog,  but  closer  inspection 
convinced  him  was  a  huge  wolf.  Taking  one  of 
the  pistols  he  levelled  it  at  the  brute  and  fired. 
The  shot  took  effect,  but  too  late.  The  skulking 
scout  had  sounded  the  starveling  brute-call,  and 
before  the  report  of  the  pistol  died  away  there 
came  from  the  forest  around  answering  yelps. 
There  was  no  doubt  now  that  a  pack  of  hungry 
wolves  had  been  notified  and  were  gathering 
their  forces  for  attack.  Knowing  something  of 
the  villainous  character  of  these  carniverous 
brutes  in  Europe,  the  Notary  knew  there  must 
be  a  race  for  life  of  himself  and  horse,  and  he  lost 
no  time  in  dismounting,  slackening  the  saddle 
girth,  adjusting  the  stirrups,  and  seating  himself 
firmly  for  a  desperate  race  over  rough  ground. 
Already  the  lurking  beasts  were  colecting  in  the 
road  behind  him  and  preparing  for  their  cow- 


ardly  attack.     Hardly  had  the  alarmed  horse 
started  with  a  snort,  when  the  whole  pack  was  in 
full  headway  after  him.    Seldom  had  the  Notary's 
horsemanship  been  put  to  a  more  severe  test 
One  stumble  of  the  affrighted  animal  under  him 
would  doom  them  both  to  a  dreadful  death 
Steadily  he  sat  and  checked,  or  encouragingly 
urged  the  stout  beast,  as  the  condition  of  the 
road  or  speed  of  his  pursuers  gave  occasion. 
Mile  after  mile,  and  the  howling  pack  gained  no 
ground,  although  the  horse  was  not  at  his  best 
speed.    Coolly  his  rider  kept  him  under  control 
and  toyed  with  the  hungry  brutes  by  letting  them 
^in  a  little,  then  dashing  away  ahead  thinking 
thus  to  discourage  them,  but  they  kept  up  the 
same  fierce  hurry  and  horrid  yelping 

Daylight  died  away  and  stars  peeped  through 
the  treetops  still  the  dismal  race  kept  up.  Onin 
^e  silent  night  went  the  fleet  horse,  and  behind 
him,  with  long  tireless  gallop,  came  the  savage 
wo  ves  slowly,  but  surely  at  last,  overtaking  their 
victims.  The  intrepid  horseman  dared  not  turn 
his  searching  gaze  from  the  uncertain  roadway 

but  he  knew  they  were  nearing  him,  for  he  could 

eet,  and  the  rustle  of  dried  leaves  as  they  swished 
through  them,   and   pressed   his   heels   to  the 


66 

horse's  foaming  flanks.     The  intelligent  beast 
knew  this  meant  greater  speed,  and  stramed  anew 
his  sinewy  frame,  and  with  vehement  effort  strug- 
gled fiercely  onward  but  to  no  avail;  his  savage 
might  had  been  tasked  to  its  limit.   The  viUl  gap 
grew  narrower  and  narrower,  and  he  could  hear 
the  victorious  brutes  snapping  their  frothy  jaws 
in  foretaste  of  the  rich  repast  almost  withm  their 
reach    Without  the  weight  of  his  rider  the  nearly 
spent  horse  might  yet  escape.    This  chance  for 
life  his  master  quickly  resolved  to  give  him,  and 
keeping  a  keen  eye  ahead,  presentiy  reined-up 
under  the  spreading  branches  of  a  great  beech, 
and  springing  from  stirrups  to  saddle  grasped 
with  both  hands  an  extended  bough,  swung  him- 
self aloft  snd  lay  secure  among  its  thick  branch- 
lets. 

The  dark  mass  of  lolling  brutes  crowded  to- 
gether to  fasten  their  fangs  into  the  helpless 
horse,  that  would  not  leave  without  his  master's 
word.  That  word  he  was  about  to  give,  when 
there  came  upon  his  ears  r.  low  snarling  growl, 
so  near  he  felt  the  animal's  hot  breath,  and  look- 
ing up  saw  stretched  on  a  limb  just  above  him,  a 
huge  panther  with  great  fiery  eyes,  lashing  his 
sides  with  his  tail  in  tiie  act  to  spring. 

The  situation  was  utterly  hopeless.     Human 
skill  and  strength  of  no  avail.    Horrible  death 


«7 

from  the  ravenous  wolves  below,  or  the  same  fate 
from  the  great  growling  creature  above  him, 
seemed  certain.  Quick  through  his  throbbing 
brain  flashed  the  last  words  of  the  solemn  Saga- 
more, as  he  left  him  alone  that  dismal  night  in 
the  forest. 

"Some  time  maybe  you  get  in  place  where  all 
these  no  good  save  you,  then  you  no  feel  strong, 
you  cry  Great  Spirit.  He  help  you  then.  Re- 
member Great  Spirit." 

The  words  had  now  a  strange  new  meaning. 
His  bold  self-confidence  wavered,  and  closing  his 
eyes  upon  the  horrible  fate  confronting  him,  in 
an  agony  of  hopeless  dread,  he  cried  aloud  to  a 
Power  mightier  than  man's  might  to  save,  and 
sobbed  like  a  frightened  child  that  had  rushed  to 
its  mother's  arms. 

In.«tantly  the  great  panther  uttered  a  loud  sput- 
tering snarl  and  sprang  from  the  limb  above  him 
down  among  the  greedy  wolves.  Crunching  in 
his  great  jaws  and  tearing  with  long  sharp  nails, 
the  huge  puma  made  short  and  bloody  work  of 
the  greedy  grinning  brutes,  and  in  a  few  minutes 
all  that  were  left  alive  of  them  had  skulked  out 
of  sight. 

*It  evidently  was  not  for  food  that  the  monster 

•Thii  inimal  h«  a  natural  hatred  of  wolves  as  a  cat  has  of 
dogs,  and  lies  in  wait  to  spring  upon  them. 


V 


cat  had  to  savagely  attacked  the  wolves,  for  with- 
out even  lapping  the  blood  he  had  spilled,  he 
climbed  back  into  the  tree  almost  within  touch  of 
the  bewildered,  subdued  and  now  fearless  man, 
who  presently  let  himself  down  from  the  tree  and 
patted  the  head  of  his  nearly  exhausted  courser, 
took  oS  his  saddle  and  bridle,  rubbed  his  sweaty 
legs  and  foaming  sides  and  fed  him  with  biscuits 
from  the  saddle-bags.  Then  looked  aloft  at  the 
great  tree  tops,  at  the  sky  so  beautifully  blue,  at 
the  shining  stars  so  far  away,  listened  to  the  whis- 
pers of  the  swaying  pines  and  thought  new 
thoughts. 

The  sudden  transition  from  helpless  dread  of 
certain  horrible  death  to  confident  security  in  the 
face  of  nearly  the  same  danger,  overcame  his  ac- 
customed anxiety  for  self;  and  breaking  some  fir- 
tips  for  a  pillow  he  lay  down  within  springing 
distance  of  the  panther  and  slept  soundly  till 
morning,  when  he  was  awakened  by  the  horse 
grazing  some  wild  grass  near  his  head. 

The  sun  was  sending  shafts  of  golden  light 
through  the  interwoven  branches  of  great  trees, 
and  sparkling  on  the  crisp  frost  covered  herbage 
beneath.  Never  before  had  he  "seen  the  sun  so 
rise."  In  its  genial  warmth  and  all  pervading 
light  he  now  saw  soul-convincing  evidence  of  a 
"Great  First  Cause."    Heretofore  he  had  loved 


the  .unshine  for  its  viulixing  influences,  the  for- 
est because  .ts  tree,  were  huge  and  defiant,  the 
flowers  for  their  grateful  fragrance,  and  the  star. 
for  their  bnlhant  beauty,  and  with  no  thought 
beyond;  now  he  saw  with  other  eyes  and  read  in 

dZJ!L  '"'■*^'  •"'  ""  °'»"'P«'«»' 

His  first  realistic  thought  was  of  the  great 
beast    m   the   tree,   and    looking  among   the 
bnuiches  he  saw  the  sleek  animal  gazing  at  him 
with  grave  qmet  eyes.    Within  a  few  yards  lay 
he  mangled  bodies  of  several  wolves.  Ld  neaJ 
the  trunk  of  the  tree  was  the  half  eaten  carcass 
of  a  canbou;  remains  likely  of  a  hearty  meal 
made  by  the  panther  before  he  had  taken  up  his 
position  on  the  bough,  where  the  Notary  had 
first  seen  him  in  the  act  to  leap. 

Four  days  he  journeyed  through  this  forest 
primordial  sleeping  at  night  on  beds  of  bough 
and  sharing  with  his  more  than  ever  valued  hfrse 
the  biscuits  brought  from  Beaubassin.  Never 
once  was  he  lonely.  Trees,  and  birds  and  beasU 
and  flowers  were  to  him  companions  as  they  be 
ore  had  not  been.  To  his  divinely  aroused  cot 
science  all  now  seemed 

Whl^"V''^"*x/  °"^  stupendous  whole 
Whose  body  Nature  is  and  God  the  soul  " 
Many  and  high  were  the  resolves  he  made  in 


the  solemn  (ilencet  of  the  grand  old  woods,  and 
faithfully  did  he  carry  them  into  effect  in  after 
life. 

Multitudinous  were  the  things  recalled  he 
wished  had  not  been  done,  and  firmly  did  he  bind 
himself,  in  promise,  to  undo  them  as  far  as  he 
possibly  could. 

Foremost  among  these  resolves  was  the  one  to 
go  back  to  France,  as  there  was  something  there 
to  be  undone ;  and  he  was  favored  in  this  by  find- 
ing at  anchor  in  the  Straits  of  Canso,  a  vessel 
bound  for  that  country,  and  when  she  sailed  the 
Notary  was  a  passenger ;  having  first  parted  with 
his  black  stallion  to  a  French  cavalry  officer, 
whom  he  met  in  the  woods  near  the  end  of  his 
journey,  with  the  stipulation  that  he  treat  him 
kindly  and  deliver  him  back  should  he  ever  de- 
mand it. 


r« 


CHAPTER  V. 

The  summer  of  1769  was  one  of  prosperity  to 
the  people  about  the  shores  of  the  Basin  of 
Mines.  Crops  of  every  kind  yielded  abundantly. 
The  grain  and  hay  had  been  harvested  in  good 
condition,  and  the  mellow  Autumn  days  were 
ripening  the  later  productions  of  the  rich  soil. 

By  interchange  of  thought  the  thirtieth  day  of 
September  of  that  year  was  set  apart  for  a  day  of 
rest  and  rejoicing.  Along  with  this  concord  of 
feeling  went  a  desire  to  spend  the  day  in  an  ex- 
cursion through  the  woods,  and  a  picnic  on  the 
shores  of  the  immense  ocean  Bay  of  Fundy  with 
its  marvelous  tides  and  strange  storm  eccentrici- 
ties. 

Foremost  in  promoting  this  excursion  was 
Lete,  who  had  now  reached  mature  girihood, 
tall,  symmetrical  and  agile  as  the  wild  roebuck ; 
with  large,  dark  earnest  eyes  and  madonna-like 
face  tinged  with  austerity. 

In  early  childhood  she  had  been  allowed  to 
play  with  the  bright,  murderous  tomahawk  that 
the  Sagamore  carried  in  his  belt.    To  her  child 


'  T 


7« 

mind  it  was  but  a  plaything.  Later  she  learned 
its  true  use;  but  still  it  had,  in  times  of  peace, 
other  uses,  and  she  took  a  great  liking  to  the 
savage  weapon ;  so  much  so  that  when  she  was 
about  fifteen  years  old  the  Sagamore  had  a  black- 
smith make  for  her  a  finely  fashioned  one  out  of 
the  best  and  brightest  of  steel.  This  she  wore 
much  of  the  time  at  her  side  in  a  broad  belt  of 
beaver  skin  despite  its  sai  jTiinary  repute. 

As  she  gfrew  older  she  was  often  in  the  homes 
of  the  settlers,  with  whom  she  had  become  a 
great  favorite;  but  no  persuasion  could  induce 
her  to  take  up  her  abode  with  them,  and  abandon 
the  wild,  free  life  she  seemed  so  much  in  love 
with.  The  Sagamore  and  his  people  were  at- 
tached to  the  handsome,  robust  girl  and  guarded 
her  with  jealous  care,  keeping  always  watch  over 
her  conduct. 

Many  times  in  later  years  she  had  been  with 
the  Indian  Braves  across  the  mountain  to  the 
great  Bay,  and  joined  them  in  the  sport  of  spear- 
ing from  canoes  the  fish-like  animal  called  a 
porpoise,  much  valued  for  its  oily  flesh  and 
tough  skin.  These  strange  cetaceous  creatures 
continue  to  frequent  the  waters  of  this  Bay.  The 
rough,  wild  scenery  delighted  the  romantic  girl, 
and  she  told  in  simple,  graphic  language  to  the 
children  of  the  settlement  and  their  '•ager  listen- 


73 

ing  parents,  her  impressions  of  the  tide  and 
whirlpools  and  white-caps,  of  the  tumultuous 
water  that  stretched  away  to  where  it  met  the 
sky,  of  the  cliffy  cave-worn  shores  with  pure  cop- 
per clinging  to  the  crevices  of  the  hard  grey 
stone,  of  the  delicate  shells,  and  the  tide-sub- 
merged rocks  overgrown  with  a  strange  edible 
seaweed  called  dulse. 

The  people  who  had  settled  this  land  of  the 
despoiled  Acadians  were  strangers  to  the  coun- 
try, and  but  few  of  them  had  ever  seen  the  Bay 
of  Fundy  except  from  the  deck  of  a  vessel.   Many 
were  the  marvels  related  of  it,  and  young  and  old 
alike  wished  to  look  upon  this  great  arm  of  the 
ocean  that  lay  behind  the  wooded  mountain ;  and 
when  the  holiday  had  been  decided  on,  about 
thirty  of  the  most  rugged  of  the  children  and  as 
many  men  and  women  started,  early  in  the  morn- 
ing, on  the  long  tramp,  the  women  and  children 
carrying  baskets  and  pails  well  filled  with  pro- 
visions, and  the  men  guns  to  protect  them  from 
wild  beasts,  then  numerous  in  the  unbroken  for- 
est through  which  they  must  pass.    The  Saga- 
more and  the  girl  Lete  went  also,  as  guides  and 
guests  of  the  party.    There  was  only  a  trail  to 
follow,  and  the  distance  about  eight  miles,  but 
all  wer?  light-hearted,  strong-limbed  and  firm- 
footed  ;  and  the  morning  sun  was  not  high  in  its 


74 

westward  climb  when  the  whole  company  of  ad- 
venturers stood  on  the  margin  of  the  majestic 
Bay  and  gazed  out  over  the  blue  surging  water 
to  where  its  grey  mist  merged  into  sky,  and  saw 
afar  oflE  the  white  sails  of  a  ship,  and  porpoises 
turning  somersaults  in  the  waves,  and  the  dark 
forest  frowning  down  to  the  water's  edge. 

The  first  gaze  of  wonder  being  over,  the  young 
ones  made  hungry  onslaught  upon  the  salt  dulse 
among  the  dripping  rocks,  while  the  older  ones 
selected  a  suitable  place  in  which  to  prepare  and 
eat  the  dinner  that  voracious  appetites  would 
soon  demand.  They  were  not  long  in  finding  a 
natural  arbor  at  the  seaward  end  of  a  great  rocky 
bluflF,  where  the  fallen  leaves  had  made  a  clean, 
variej,  .ted  carpet.  Here  the  baskets  of  proven- 
der were  deposited  and  the  women  joined  the 
children,  who  soon  tired  of  eating  the  strange 
seaweed,  scattered  themselves  along  the  myste- 
rious shore  in  search  erf  shells  and  wonderfully 
shaped  stones.  The  men  went  along  the  craggy 
cliffs  in  search  of  copper  miggets  clinging  to  the 
crevices  of  the  hard  trap-rock.  Their  search  was 
abundantly  rewarded,  many  of  the  precious  nug- 
gets were  in  a  short  time  collected,  and  so  the 
hours  passed  unheeded. 

In  the  mean  time  that  blessing  of  childhood, 
called  appetite,  got  the  better  of  gratified  curios- 


75 
ity  in  one  of  the  small  boys,  and  he  made  a  clan- 
destine visit  to  the  dinner  baskets.    He  was  not 
missed  from  the  crowd  till  cries  came  from  the 
direction  of  the  bluff  where  the  food  had  been 
left.    The  women  were  the  first  to  hear  the  cry 
and  reach  the  spot,  but  only  tc  add  their  own 
screams  of  terror.    The  straggling  men  secured 
their  guns  and  hastened  to  the  rescue.    When 
they  reached  the  place  they  saw  a  monster  brown 
bear  tossing  the  boy  about  and  playing  with  him 
as  a  cat  does  with  a  mouse.    At  sight  of  the 
women  and  children  the  savage  brute  had  not 
hesitated  or  stopped  his  cruel  amusement,  as  he 
had  no  cause  to  expect  harm  from  them;  but 
when  the  men  appeared  with  guns,  he  seemed  to 
recognize  enemies   and   to   know  the   danger. 
Backing  up  against  a  great  rock  he  caught  the 
boy  in  his  strong,  shaggy  forelegs,  and  raising 
himself  upon  his  huge  haunches,  held  the  victim 
close  to  his  broad,  hairy  breast,  as  a  mother 
would  hold  a  child,  and  looking  savagely  at  the 
men,  seemed  to  say,  "now  shoot  if  you  dare."    It 
was  a  defiance  at  once  understood.    The  only  ex- 
posed part  of  the  beast  into  which  a  bullet  could 
be  sent  with  certainty  of  killing  was  his  breast, 
and  against  that  he  held  the  screaming  child  for 
a  shield.    With  small,  cunning  eyes  he  watched 
every  movement  of  the  men,  and  licked  with  his 


M 


76 

rough  tongue  the  head  and  face  of  the  child  as  if 
in  preparation  to  eat  him. 

The  Indian  had  strayed  farthest  away  and  was 
last  to  reach  the  scene  of  danger.  He  went 
at  once  many  paces  nearer  the  animal  than  the 
jrther  men,  and  kneeling  on  the  ground  within  a 
hundred  feet  of  him  levelled  his  gun  to  shoot; 
but  the  wily  creature  seemed  to  understand  the 
intent  and  so  turned  his  body  as  to  make  the 

bullet  ''°'"'*'''^  ^"^^^  ^°''  ^^"^  t'"-«t«ned 

The  Sagamore  was  cool  and  steady  nerved 
and  accurate  in  aim;  but  he  dared  not  take  so 
penlous  a  shot.  He  knew  that  the  ugly  beast 
must  be  killed  outright  with  the  first  dis- 
charge for  if  wounded  only,  he  would  crush  to 
death  the  child  in  his  grasp  and  likely  kill  others 
before  he  could  be  finally  dispatched. 

The  head  of  the  defiant  beast  was  exposed,  but 
he  knew  that  the  skull  of  so  old  and  large  a  bear 
Zt  !"™  !,''""^*  -  ^ff-«-"y  as  thf  rock  at 
tte    W  n        ""t  "*''  "'  '^"'=^'  ■"  that  adaman- 

„d  h  '  T  ^'^'='"  '^'  ^y«'  ^  '^"d-  spot. 

win  h'-'°    •  '^^'^^'"'"^d  Indian  kept  his  ^n 

lower  h,s  head,  so  as  to  bring  that  spot  within 
d-rect  a.m ;  but  as  if  he  knew  the  intent  of  hTs  f d- 


rt 

low  forest  deniMn,  the  beast  kept  his  head  erect, 
so  that  only  a  glancing  shot  could  be  taken. 

It  was  a  case  of  the  mastery  of  brute  force  and 
animal  cunning  over  human  skill  and  intellieent 
knowledge. 

The  cries  of  the  boy  held  in  rough  embrace 
of  the  creature  were  being  stiffled,  and  it  was 
clear  to  the  terrified  lookers-on  that  the  life  was 
being  squeezed  out  of  him. 

Strong  men  looked  in  silence  at  each  other  for 
some  suggestion  or  order  of  attack,  but  no  one 
knew  what  to  say  or  do. 

Lete  alone  of  all  the  children  had  made  no  out- 
cry of  fear,  ana  as  soon  as  the  Sagamore  came 
upon  the  scene,  took  her  place  beside  him  and 
watched  intently  the  conduct  of  the  bear     Sud- 
denly without  a  word  she  snatched  the  tomahawk 
from  her  belt  and  took  firm  slow  steps  toward 
the  ugly  looking  brute.    A  dozen  alarmed  voices 
called  her  back,  and  the  stem  Sagamore  bade  her 
stop;  but  for  the  first  time  she  dared  to  disobey 
him;  heeding  only  the  faint  cries  of  the  -hild 
she  steadily  approached  its  tormentor  and  before 
the  astounded  animal  could  understand  that  she 
meant  harm  to  him,  her  shapely  brown  arm  was 
raised  m  a.r,  the  shining  steel  crashed  into  his 
brain,  and  he  fell  dead  at  her  feet. 
She  had  learned  from  the  Indians  where  a  blow 


If 

I 


could  be  struck  that  would  easily  kiJ  a  bear,  and 
the  upright  position  of  this  huge  prowler  exposed 
him  to  just  such  a  blow.  All  this  the  intrepid 
girl  had  considered  in  the  few  minutes  of  hesitat- 
ing alarm  that  had  kept  back  the  strong  men, 
and  she  instantly  decided  to  strike  this  blow. 
The  cool  courage  bom  of  her  forest  life  nerved 
her  to  make  the  perilous  attack,  and  the  muscu- 
lar ability  gained  in  the  same  stem  school  en- 
abled her  to  deal  the  blow  with  such  deadly  ef- 
fect. 

The  boy  was  badly  frightened  but  not  harmed 
beyond  a  few  deep  scratches  and  bruises.  The 
baskets  and  pails  that  contained  the  dinner  were 
neariy  empty.  The  hairy,  unbidden  guest  had 
eaten  it  all,  and  that  is  why  he  played  with  the 
boy  mstead  of  eating  him.  In  place  of  a  nice 
dmner  eaten  oflf  rocks  for  a  table,  with  fingers  for 
forks,  the  children  were  obliged  to  content  them- 
selves with  a  lunch  from  the  fragments  left  by  the 
bear.  ' 

Then  the  shells  and  seaweed  and  pretty  stones 
already  collected  were  gathered  into  the  empty 
baskets  and  preparations  made  for  a  return.  The 
young  ones  were  too  badly  frightened  to  find 
further  pleasure  in  the  wildness  of  the  place,  and 
the  older  ones  had  another  reason  for  shortening 
the  time  of  stay  upon  the  storm-fashioned  shore 


+ 


79 

The  white  sail  away  down  the  Bay  that  had 
been  seen  at  the  first  sweep  of  keen  eyes  over  the 
broad  water,  was  now  nearly  abreast  of  them, 
and  the  men  had  "made  it  out"  to  be  the  Senem- 
qua  on  her  return  from  a  voyage  to  England. 
Wind  and  tide  were  favoring  the  staunch  vessel 
and  she  would  re  ich  the  moorings  in  the  village 
in  a  few  hours.  TliC  r:tum  of  a  ship  in  those 
days  was  a  matter  of  great  interest  to  most  of  the 
people  in  her  home-port. 

That  was  especially  so  in  the  return  of  this  the 
first  voyage  of  th(^  Senemqua  across  the  ocean ; 
and  all  were  anxious  to  greet  the  pioneer  ship  at 
the  wharf. 

Soon  as  the  Sagamore  with  the  help  of  a 
couple  of  the  young  men  had  skinned  the  bear 
and  cut  from  his  great  thighs  some  good  fat 
steaks,  they  all  started  back  through  the  woods 
for  their  homes  in  the  peaceful  valley. 

To  the  children  the  delight  of  threading  the 
thick  woods  that  a  few  hours  before  had  thrilled 
them,  was  now  changed  to  dread  of  being  caught 
in  the  clutches  of  fierce  beasts  that  seemed  to  be 
crouching  behind  every  g^eat  rock  and  tree,  and 
they  kept  close  to  the  proud  girl  with  the  steel 
tomahawk  in  her  belt.  Even  the  great  Chief 
with  eagle  feathers  in  his  hair  was  to  their  minds 
less  a  hero  than  she. 


The  memory  of  that  day  lasted  them  through 
Ufe,  and  their  great-great-grand-children  tell  the 
story  today  with  the  freshness  of  recent  events 
and  mild  flavor  of  oft-told  traditions. 

It  was  late  in  the  afternoon  whei.  -.e  party 
reached  the  settlement,  wearied  wit.i  ihe  tramp 
and  satisfied  with  adventure. 

An  hour  later  nearly  the  whole  village  was  as- 
sembled on  the  shores  to  welcome  the  vessel 
from  her  ocean  trip.  She  had  now  rounded  the 
high  cape  of  Blomidon  with  every  sail  set,  and 
filled  with  favoring  winds,  was  cleaving  the  sur- 
face of  the  beautiful  Basin  of  Mines. 

The  tide  was  at  its  flood.  The  sun  nearing  a 
clear  horizon,  streams  of  mellow  light  glanced 
against  the  white  caps  of  the  billowy  water,  and 
gleamed  from  the  storm-bleached  canvas  of  the 
careening  vessel,  speeding  onward  as  if  eager  to 
reach  her  port. 

It  was  five  months  ago  she  had  left  that  port 
to  cross  the  then  strange  and  stormy  Atlantic; 
and  since  that  day  there  had  not  passed  between 
ship  and  shore  a  single  word  of  intelligence. 

The  captain  and  crew  were  all  from  the  settle- 
ment, and  there  were  anxious  fears  as  to  what 
might  have  happened  to  dear  ones  on  land  and 
sea  in  this  long  unheard-from  interval. 
As  the  trim  craft  drew  nearer  the  shore,  up  to 


her  muthead  went  the  flag,  and  up  from  the 
crowd  on  shore  came  a  glad  "hurrah  I"  The  flag 
at  that  point  was  the  signal  that  no  one  of  her 
crew  had  been  lost  and  that  all  were  well  on 
board. 

No  such  sign  could  be  given  from  the  shore, 
and  the  stout-hearted  sailors  must  wait  till  the 
landing  to  know  that  all  was  well  with  those  on 
land  whom  they  loved. 

Nearer  and  nearer  came  the  white-winged  mes- 
senger from  distant  lands.  One  after  another 
the  sails  were  furled,  the  welcome  craft  glided 
to  her  moorings,  and  the  long  voyage  was  at  an 
end. 

There  was  then  no  Custom  House  entry  to 
make.  The  vessel  was  out  of  reach  of  Revenue 
Laws,  and  free  to  load  and  discharge,  and  come 
and  go,  as  the  wild  fowl  whose  name  she  bore. 

The  deck  was  soon  crowded  with  eager  ex- 
pectants of  news  from  the  Old  World,  and  they 
were  not  disappointed.  Verbal  messages,  letters, 
and  more  tangible  expressions  of  love  or  friend- 
ship were  received  on  all  sides. 

At  that  time  there  was  no  regular  mail  across 
the  ocean,  and  every  ship  carried  g^ratuitously 
all  letters  and  parcels  of  small  bulk.  Each  sailor 
was  the  custodian  of  heart-gladdening  missives 
and  his  only  recompense  was  the  joy  it  gave  to 


8i 


lift 

m 


I  ii 


others.  Besides  these  tokens  of  remembrance 
there  were  pleasant  exchanges  of  interesting  and 
gossipy  news  and  the  ship  was  alive  with  glad 
hearts  and  cheery  voices. 

But  on  the  deck  crowded  by  so  many  light 
hearts  there  was  one  who  neither  expected  nor 
received  any  more  than  mere  recognition.  It 
was  the  white  Indian  maiden,  Lete,  who  with  the 
Sagamore  had  come  to  welcome  home  the  vessel. 
Apart  from  the  rest  she  leaned  against  the  bow- 
sprit upon  which  she  had  joyfully  broken  the  bot- 
tle of  wine  at  the  christening  a  year  before. 
Gathering  tears  clung  to  her  quivering  eyelids, 
and  a  sad,  forsaken  look  was  over  her  handsome, 
sun-browned  face.  Never  had  she  realized  that 
she  was  alone  in  the  world;  never  had  the 
shadow  of  bereavement  darkened  her  thoughts ; 
never  till  now  had  she  felt  the  loneliness  of  hav- 
ing neither  father,  mother,  brother,  sister  or  kin- 
dred of  any  kind.  In  all  the  wide  world  beyond 
the  £^eat  sea,  she  now  thought,  was  there  no  one 
who  had  a  loving  word  or  a  little  gift  for  her? 
The  happy  faces  and  merry  voices  echoed  the 
sad  answer,  "not  one,"  and  the  aalt  tears  sliJ 
from  the  pained  lids  and  fell  on  the  seamed  and 
weather-worn  deck.  It  was  her  first  real  grief 
and  seared  the  fringe  of  her  hitherto  bright  life. 


CHAPTER  VI. 


4 


It  was  the  first  day  of  October,  1773.  The 
was  crisp  and  clear,  the  sky  without  a  frown,  the 
sunshine  mellow,  and  the  forest  foliage  brilliant 
with  many-tinted  leaves.  The  hunting  moon's 
auspicious  horns  were  partly  filled,  and  Micmac 
braves  preparing  for  the  October  game  of  calling 
the  male  moose  and  caribou  within  shooting  dis- 
tance, by  imitating  the  note  of  the  cow  at  this 
season  of  the  year. 

The  Sagamore  and  many  of  his  braves  and 
hunters  had  gone  a  few  miles  to  the  outskirts  of 
the  great  wilderness  to  the  south  of  Grand  Pre, 
and  camped  on  the  margin  of  a  small  lake. 
Among  the  few  women  allowed  to  go  with  the 
party  was  Lete,  whom  the  Sagamore  did  not  now 
allow  to  be  long  out  of  his  sight,  as  he  knew  she 
was  approaching  womanhood,  and  might  under 
its  eccentric  influences  be  tempted  to  abandon 
her  wild  life  and  elude  his  control.  All  the  bright 
Autumn  day  she  had  been  busy  building  for  her- 
self a  small  wigwam,  by  forcing  into  the  ground 
in  circular  form  the  sharpened  but-ends  of  long 


MICROCOPY   RESOIUTION   TEST   CHART 

(ANSI  ond  ISO  TEST  CHART  No.  2) 


Ui  |2.8 

|2j5 

|J0    "^ 

if  US 

IIIIM 

Biuu 

ill  1.8 

1.6 


_^  x^PPLIED  IN/MGE    Inc 

SS^i  1653  Eait   Main  Street 

^2  Rochester.  New  York        14609       USA 

rJSS  (716)    4B2  -  0300  -  Phone 

^■^  (716)    28a  -  5989  -  Fox 


hard  wood  limbs,  twisting  the  slender  tops  to- 
gether in  tentlike  form,  and  thatching  the  sides 
with  overlapping  boughs  of  many  colored  leaves. 
It  was  pretty  to  view  and  inviting  to  enter; 
but  she  sat  outside  near  the  doorway  on  a  moss- 
covered  stone  with  her  lap  full  of  bright  flowers 
which  she  listlessly  fingered,  and  allowed  to  fall 
upon  the  ground  about  her  delicately  moccasined 
feet.  She  was  not  pleased  with  the  snug  abode 
she  had  toiled  so  patiently  to  construct.  It  was 
as  trim  as  any  one  she  had  ever  made,  the  thatch- 
ing boughs  were  as  many-hued  and  the  flowers 
as  daintily  colored ;  but  her  heart  had  not  been 
in  the  work  as  in  times  before,  and  she  did  not 
enter  the  neat  little  primitive  dwelling.  The 
pretty  birds  flitted  about  the  trees  and  carolled 
as  blithely  as  in  any  day  within  her  memory.  The 
deep  blue  sky  and  forest-crowned  hills  were 
beautifully  mirrored  in  the  placid  surface  of  the 
quiet  lake,  and  the  noisy  brooklets  bubbled  down 
the  mountain  sides  to  join  its  limpid  waters. 
She  saw  and  heard  it  all,  but  was  not  delighted. 
She  was  in  strange  mood  and  knew  not  why  nor 
wherefore,  and  was  mentally  groping  her  way  to 
the  unthankful  knowledge  that  she  was  no  longer 
a  child ;  but  into  what  this  happy  child-life  was 
merging  she  had  neither  hint  nor  hope  nor  dread. 
She  had  no  knowledge  of  herself  save  what  the 


85 

Sagamore  had  told  her,  and  from  that  she 
thought  about  seventeen  years  was  her  age.  She 
never  had  a  birthday  like  other  children  she 
knew.  Not  even  the  month  of  the  year  she  was 
bom,  nor  her  mother's  or  father's  name  did  she 
know,  and  until  this  day  had  not  cared  much  to 
ascertain.  But  benign  sunshine  and  mellowing 
airs  of  golden  Autumn  days  had  ripened  child- 
hood desires  into  maidenhood  aspirations ;  and 
in  the  dim  light  of  guiding  instinct  she  was  striv- 
ing to  find  out  what  had  befallen  her,  when  the 
sound  of  heavy  shod  feet  fell  upon  her  ears,  and 
she  saw  approaching  from  the  lake  an  English 
guide  and  hunter  from  the  settlement,  whom  she 
knew,  and  with  him  three  stalwart  looking  stran- 
gers in  foreign  dress. 

She  did  not  leave  her  seat  and  as  they  came 
near,  the  guide  asked  her  in  English  to  direct 
them  to  the  Sagamore's  wigwam.  She  answered 
in  the  same  speech,  but  taciturnly,  taking  no  care 
to  conceal  the  fact  that  she  was  displeased  at  the 
intrusion.  As  the  men  turned  to  leave  one  of 
them,  evidently  the  youngest,  lingered  a  little 
and  seemed  to  be  admiring  the  pretty  wigwam 
and  the  flowers  on  the  ground  entangled  with 
the  dainty  beaded  moccasins,  and  raising  his 
eyes  to  the  maiden's  face  met  her  eyes  bent  upon 
him,  and  instantly  there  was  that  lightning-like, 


-It  I, . 

'ii 


i 


86 

indescribable  interchange  of  glances  that  as  as- 
suredly and  unconsciously  results  when  certain 
eyes  meet  certain  eyes,  as  flashes  the  spark  when 
opposite  poles  of  an  electric  battery  approach 
each  other.  The  man  started  as  if  pricked  by  an 
unseen  poniard  and  turned  his  eyes  upon  the 
treetops.  The  girl  bent  her's  upon  the  ground 
at  her  feet,  and  nervously  cast  the  flowers  from 
her  lap.  After  a  minute  or  so,  he  turned  his  gaze 
from  lofty  boughs  full  upon  the  abashed  face  of 
the  maiden,  still  sitting  with  downcast  eyes ;  then 
turned  to  join  his  companions,  and  as  he  did  so, 
said  aloud  to  himself  "Vous  benisse  ma  petite 
Jolie." 

He  thought  she  would  not  understand,  for  he 
reasoned  that  the  guide  who  could  speak  French, 
would  not  have  addressed  her  in  English  if  she 
understood  French;  but  had  he  looked  back,  he 
would  have  seen  the  girl  start  to  her  feet  with 
flushed  face  and  hastily  enter  the  wigwam. 

When  the  men  were  all  out  of  sight  and  hear- 
ing she  took  her  seat  again  on  the  mossy  rock. 
She  was  not  now  in  pensive  mood,  and  her  fine 
face  was  radiant  with  a  light  never  before  there. 
Soon  she  left  and  hastened  through  the  untrailed 
forest  to  the  Sagamore's  Camp.  As  she  left  her 
seat  a  red  squirrel  above  her  on  a  bough  let  drop 
upon  her  head  a  hazelnut  he  had  been  exploring. 


. 


8? 

and  skiirried  away  among  the  branches  with  a 
cheery,  saucy  chatter  which  seemed  plainly  to 
say:  "I've  caught  you,  caught  you,  my  pretty 
fair  maid.    I've  caught  you." 

The  men  who  accompanied  the  guide  were 
sportsmen,  who  had  come  from  France  to  enjoy 
the  hunting  season  in  the  woods  of  Acadia,  and 
had  sought  out  the  Sagamore  to  obtain  his  con- 
sent to  kill  game  in  the  great  forest  of  the  south, 
claimed  as  the  hunting  ground  of  his  tribe.  The 
youngest  of  the  party  was  the  youthful  Count  de 
Rochambeau,  the  eldest  in  line  of  a  wealthy  no- 
ble family,  handsome  and  of  good  repute. 

When  Lete  arrived  at  the  camp  the  Sagamore 
and  his  braves  were  in  consultation,  as  to  what 
they  should  ask  of  the  sportsmen  for  the  privilege 
of  killing  game  in  the  best  game  woods  of  Aca- 
dia. A  little  apart  from  them  stood  th  ,nide 
and  the  strangers;  but  she  did  not  see  v  .e  one 
who  had  loitered  at  the  wigwam  and  looked  at 
her  with  such  proud  head  and  speaking  eyes,  and 
she  searched  with  earnest  gaze  the  woods  in 
every  direction,  but  he  was  not  to  be  seen.  She 
could  have  asked  the  guide  where  he  was,  and 
did  not  understand  why  she  hesitated  so  to  do, 
nor  why  she  should  feel  at  all  bashful  about  in- 
quiring. 

Of  this  psychical  perplexity  she  was  soon  re- 


ii^ 


lieved,  by  the  Sagamore  telling  her  to  go  into  his 
wigwam  and  prepare  some  smoked  salmon  and 
dried  venison,  for  the  strangers  to  eat  before  they 
left.  This  command  she  willingly  obeyed,  but 
soon  discovered  that  she  needed  some  dry  sticks 
with  which  to  replenish  the  fire,  and  went  out- 
side to  gather  them,  with  the  result,  that  after  a 
much  longer  time  than  was  needed  to  obtain  the 
fuel,  she  returned  with  her  arms  full  of  kindlings, 
and  her  heart  full  of  suppressed  chagrin  at  not 
seeing  anywhere  the  hands  jme  stranger.  Yet 
she  counted  him  in  the  number  for  whom  she 
was  preparing  the  savory  repast,  and  all  the 
while  wondered  if  he  really  would  come  in  with 
the  others;  if  he  liked  salmon  better  than  the 
venison,  and  almost  wished  he  would  prefer  it 
because  she  liked  it  better. 

It  was  not  long  till  the  Sagamore  entered  with 
the  three  strangers,  who  showed  that  they  were 
used  to  camp  life,  by  finding  each  a  seat  for  him- 
self on  the  bough-bunks  of  the  capacious  wig- 
wam. Lete  saw  them  as  they  came  in  and  was 
pleased  but  appeared  not  to  notice  and  kept  her 
eyes  upon  the  food  she  was  tending  with  more 
than  ordinary  care,  and  her  thoughts  upon  what 
had  happened  at  the  little  wigwam. 

The  Sagamore  with  native  politeness  spoke  to 
her  in  French,  and  explained  that  the  strange 


89 

men  were  great  brave  hunters,  who  had  come 
from  across  the  broad  sea  to  kill  game  in  the 
woods  of  Acadia.  That  in  their  country  they 
were  chiefs  and  mighty  men,  who  were  his  friends 
and  that  she  must  treat  them  kindly. 

When  the  Count  thus  learned  that  the  girl 
could  speak  his  language  he  was  embarrassed, 
for  now  it  was  certain  she  must  have  understood 
the  flattering  monologue  with  which  he  parted 
from  her  at  the  lake  side. 

Soon  as  the  food  was  prepared  and  served,  the 
Sagamore  sent  Lete  outside.  This  piqued  her, 
for  she  wished  to  see  the  men  eat  and  hear  them 
talk,  and  as  she  passed  by  them  her  gazelle-like 
eyes  looked  full  into  the  teutonic  blue  orbs  of 
the  young  Count,  and  love's  potent  bat'eries 
again  emitted  enigmatical  flashes,  and  the  blood 
in  the  veins  of  each  tingled  with  accelerated  im- 
pulse, that  flushed  the  cheeks  of  the  nettled  girl 
as  she  reluctantly  left  their  presence. 

Not  being  in  mood  to  attend  to  outside  camp 
duties,  she  loitered  among  the  trees  and  finally 
found  herself  at  the  little  wigwam,  on  her  moss- 
cushioned  seat  at  its  doorway.  She  was  not  per- 
plexed, as  earlier  in  the  day  she  was,  with  ab- 
struse meditations.  Her  thoughts  were  now  un- 
deniably of  the  handsome  man  who  had  so  mys- 
teriously set  her  maiden  heart  pit-a-pat ;  and  she 


was  wondering  if  he  possibly  would  stroll  off 
again  alone,  and  find  his  way  to  the  little  moss- 
rock  and  look  at  her  again,  and  perhaps  say  nice 
words  to  her.  She  had  not  long  to  surmise,  for 
he  was  even  then  walking  alone  along  the  lake 
shore  at  a  little  distance  away,  trying  to  make 
himself  believe  that  it  was  the  beautiful  lake 
gemmed  with  islands  and  the  musical  swash  of 
its  limpid  wavelets  on  the  pebbly  shore,  that  he 
came  there  alone  to  see  and  hear ;  but  vain  is  all 
such  ruse  of  the  brain  against  emotional  desires, 
and  the  conscientious  Count  soon  found  himself 
beside  the  maiden,  making  excuses  for  intrusion, 
and  asking  forgiveness  for  having  called  her  his 
pretty  little  dear  in  language  he  thought  she  did 
not  understand.  The  situation  had  for  Lete  its 
charm,  but  she  was  terrified  at  the  strange  ne-,v 
delight,  an  i  left  him  abruptly  and  went  to  the 
Sagamore's  camp.  She  soon  saw  the  Count  join 
his  companions,  and  heard  him  tell  them  of  the 
lovely  lake,  the  pretty  birds  and  the  golden  sun- 
set behind  the  trees;  but  never  a  word  did  she 
hear  of  the  maiden  on  the  moss-rock,  nor  did  he 
now  even  look  at  her. 

When  the  Frenchmen  had  gone  for  the  night 
the  Sagamore  gravely  told  Lete  that  she  must 
not  be  with  the  strangers  or  talk  with  them  more 
than  was  needed  to  be  civil  and  pleasant. 


*l 

Whether  it  was  that  the  alert  savage  had  no- 
ticed the  exchange  of  glances,  and  the  flush  on 
her  cheek  as  she  left  the  wigwam,  or  was  only 
wisely  prudent,  is  a  matter  for  conjecture,  but 
very  likely  it  was  the  former.  Just  how  delight- 
fully the  wayward,  enamoured  girl  clandestinely 
disobeyed  him,  only  the  birds  and  squirrels 
knew;  for  the  old  "pathless  woods"  had  then 
many  a  coy  retreat  where  lovers  might  retire  and 
fear  no  eye  that  would  reprove,  or  tongue  that 
could  tattle ;  and  the  maiden  was  a  ready  guide  to 
such  ungfuarded  cloisters. 

To  ambush  love  in  such  sylvan  solitudes  and 
observe  with  exacting  ken  all  its  dev'ous  ways, 
from  magnetic  flash  of  mutual  eyes,  to  inter- 
changing sigh  of  fo.idly  fettered  hearts  would  be 
unfair,  so  suffice  it  to  know  that  before  the  moon 
began  to  wane  they  were  ardently  in  love  each 
with  the  other.  The  Count  painfully  so,  for  he 
knew  there  can  be  no  legitimate  attainment  of 
love's  precious  dowry  where  it  is  forbidden  by 
family  pride,  and  prohibited  by  social  edicts;  yet 
he  had  without  protest  yielded  to  dulcet  influ- 
ences of  stolen  hours  and  maiden's  artless 
charms,  and  had  allowed  the  delightful  days  to 
glide  on  unimbittered  by  other  than  tacit  recog- 
nition of  the  cruel  fact,  that  it  was  all  sadly 
wrong.    He  could  not  summon  courage  to  even 


9» 

hint  this  to  the  innocent,  sincere  girl  who  knew 
nothing  of  barriers  of  blood  or  caste,  and  felt  no 
hindrance  to  their  loves  save  the  stem  Saga- 
more's disapproval,  which  she  had  so  naively  set 
at  defiance. 

He  knew  her  desires  were  untamed  by  re- 
straint, her  blood  aflame  with  love's  avidity  and 
that  she  could  no  more  be  reasoned  with  than  a 
forest  fire.  She  loved  and  was  beloved  and  that 
was  all  she  cared  to  know  of  prurient  knowledge. 

He  was  her  senior  by  half  a  dozen  years,  and 
had  been  much  in  the  society  of  fine  ladies  and 
lovely  giris,  without  even  confessing  to  himself 
a  preference ;  but  here  was  this  waif  of  the  woods 
without  refinement  in  dress  or  manners,  so  cap- 
tivating him  that  he  could  not  obey  the  dictates 
of  his  aroused  conscience,  and  tell  her  even  ever 
so  tenderly  that  she  must  not  love  him. 

Each  knew  that  the  day  was  fast  approaching 
when  he  must  leave  the  woods  of  Acadia  not  to 
return ;  but  neither  mentioned  it  to  the  other,  or 
had  any  definite  idea  of  what  that  day  would  be 
to  them.  He  knew  it  must  be  a  painful  parting. 
She  had  never  thought  it  possible  they  could 
part  to  meet  no  more.  How  they  would  continue 
to  remain  unseparated  she  knew  not,  cared  not, 
only  that  it  must  be  so,  somewhere,  somehow, 
and  like  the  babbling  brooks,  "go  on  forever." 


t3 

"Time,  the  a-  iger,"  with  unrelenting  exact- 
ness brought  at  last  the  day  when  the  hunters 
were  to  leave  for  far  away  France,  it  was  much 
like  the  day  they  had  first  entered  the  woods,  and 
the  two  older  men  were  busied  with  preparations 
for  the  jcumcy ;  but  the  young  Count  was  away 
by  the  Ittle  wigwam  at  the  lake  side  where  he 
had  first  set  eyes  on  Lete. 

The  afternoon  sun  had  crept  around  behind 
.he  trees  and  was  sending  horizontal  shafts  of 
shimmering  light  along  the  rippled  surface  of  the 
lake,  an  old  owl  in  a  neighboring  thicket  was 
welcoming  the  dusk  of  approachinj  night  with 
dismal  hoots,  and  the  lovers  were  seated  on  the 
moss-carpeted  rock  for  the  List  time.  It  was  a 
single  seat,  and  narrow,  but  It  held  them  both. 
The  dainty  moccasined  feet  were  not  now  among 
negligently  strewn  flowers,  but  snuggled  timidly 
among  dried  crackling  leaves. 

Neither  had  spoken  since  thus  seated.  He 
fearing  to  say  what  he  felt  must  be  said,  and  she 
dreading  to  hear  what  she  instinctively  feared  he 
might  say.  When  at  last  the  Count  choked  down 
a  sigh  and  essayed  to  speak,  she  playfully  placed 
her  hand  over  his  mouth.  He  gently  put  it  aside, 
and  she  passionately  pressed  her  red  lips  to  his 
and  held  them  there,  deternmied  to  keep  buck 
the  dreaded  words  and  drive  them   from  his 


thoughts;  but  it  was  useless  all,  the  man  had 
been  sternly  trained  to  "go  where  duty  calls"  and 
here  was  the  most  inflexible  call  of  hu  life. 

Tenderly  he  withdrew  from  the  thrilling  caress, 
and  indulgently  held  her  pale  face  a  little  from 
him,  while  he  told  in  words  that  burned  her 
ears  and  seared  her  heart,  that  in  his  country  he 
was  a  great  chief  and  belonged  to  high-bom  So- 
ciety, that  could  not  allow  him  to  marry  one  who 
was  not  born  of  noble  parents.  That  he  was  in 
duty  bound  to  this  Society  not  to  make  her  his 
wife,  although  he  loved  her  "never  so  fondly" ; 
because  she  did  not  know  her  father's  or  mother's 
name,  and  what  rank  they  held  in  society.  As  he 
finished  speaking  her  fair  head  drooped  listlessly 
upon  his  forward-bent  shoulder,  while  the  abun- 
dant brown  hair  loosened  from  its  slender  tie, 
fell  floating  over  his  arm  unconsciously  raised  to 
clasp  the  lovely  languid  neck.  It  was  a  heart- 
breaking silence  that  followed.  To  him  it  seemed 
that  she  would  never  raise  her  head  or  speak 
again.  He  could  see  her  bosom  heave  with  sup- 
pressed emotion,  and  felt  as  guilty  as  if  he  had 
actually  killed  her,  and  began  to  dread  as  fatal  a 
result,  when  she  sprang  to  her  feet  and  stood 
facing  him,  her  tall  form  proudly  erect,  her  hand- 
some pale  face  beaming  with  triumph  that 
flashed  from  her  dark  menacing  eyes.    The  guile- 


9S 

less,  imprudent,  unrefined  girt  liad  vanished,  and 
in  her  place  stood  a  stately  maiden  of  as  haughty 
mien  as  the  proudest  damoiselle  of  proud  Paris, 
and  but  for  her  primitive  attire  would  have  been 
deemed  such.  The  self-condemned  man  was 
amazed  at  the  sudden  transformation,  and  i  lable 
to  account  for  the  refined  expression  over  her 
faultlessly  formed  face. 

After  thus  confronting  him  f  some  minutes 
she  said  with  slight  acerbity  ot  voice,  "You  tell 
me  that  you  love  me  and  no  other,  and  I  believe 
you.  You  know  that  I  love  you,  and  no  other. 
Yet  you  say  that  I  cannot  be  your  wife  bee  use 
you  are  great  and  belong  to  a  proud  family  md 
I  only  a  wood  nymph,  a  name  you  so  fondly  often 
called  me.  Why  did  not  you  tell  me  this  before 
I  loved  you  ?  You  kne\.-  at  the  first  of  our  meet- 
ing that  I  did  not  know  my  parents'  names.  You 
say  there  is  a  something  called  Society  that  you 
are  in  duty  bound  to  obey  when  you  marry.  I 
too  owed  a  duty  more  sacred  to  the  good  savage, 
who  without  reward  has  cared  for  me  and  kept 
me  from  harm.  He  warned  me  against  being 
with  you,  but  I  have  been  false  to  him  and 
shirked  my  duty  for  your  love.  You  knew  it  and 
did  not  even  chide  me.  You  are  proud  looking, 
and  I  know  you  must  be  great  and  noble.  That 
is  why  I  loved  you." 


-ill 


f.V 


"4 


KU    ,• 


"It  is  now  all  over  I  Go  to  your  Society  dames, 
but  remember,  I  have  shot  my  quiver  full  of  ar- 
rows into  your  haughty  heart,  and  they  have 
made  wounds  that  will  never  heal.  Go  where 
you  may.  Do  what  you  will,  your  heart  is  for- 
ever mine.  No  other  love  shall  ever  nestle  there. 
If  I  am  not  to  share  in  its  joys,  I  will  hold  it  cap- 
tive till  death ;  and  before  that  day  comes  it  may 
be  known  that  I  am  your  equal  in  blood  and 
rank.  Think  of  this  possibility  when  your  heart 
aches  any  you  find  no  cure  for  it  in  all  the  gay 
world ;  au  revoir."  And  she  walked  slowly  away. 
He  replied  with  a  sad  adieu.  Soon  as  the  word 
reached  her  ears,  she  turned  quickly,  and  with 
minacious  emphasis  repeated  slowly  au  revoir, 
and  in  a  minute  was  out  of  sight. 

That  night  the  Frenchman  left  the  woods  of 
Acadia  forever,  and  Lete  returned  to  her  life  in 
the  forest,  but  no  more  to  be  the  wayward  happy 
child  of  Nature.  She  had  taken  her  first  lesson 
in  worldly  wisdom,  and  felt  the  sting  of  innocent 
imprudence. 


1111} 


97 


CHAPTER  VII. 

In  the  sunny  land  of  France  on  the  seventeenth 
day  of  April,  1756,  and  early  in  the  morning  of 
that  day,  a  French  vessel  from  a  far-away  and 
foreign  land  droped  anchor  in  the  harbor  of  the 
port  of  La  Rochelle. 

Among  the  first  to  go  ashore  was  a  tall,  stern- 
looking  man  who  at  once  took  his  way  alone, 
along  a  narrow  road  that  wound  among  small 
fields  and  shreds  of  old  forests.  The  morning  sun 
freshened  the  green  of  the  just  unfolded  foliage 
of  shrubs  and  trees,  and  glistened  from  dewy 
grass  and  flowers.  The  beauties  of  Nature 
soothed  the  man  into  indolence,  and  stretching 
himself  upon  the  clean  turf  of  a  rocky  hillside  he 
let  the  mist-laden  sunrays  fall  upon  his  tanned 
and  salt-sea-hardened  face. 

Above  him  was  the  bright  cloudless  sky; 
around  him  were  beautiful  flowers  and  warbling 
birds  and  grazing  cattle.  Giving  himself  up  to 
thoughts  born  of  impulse  from  inanimate  things, 
he  fell  asleep. 

Soon  the  hum  of  human  voices  broke  upon  his 


*M 


98 

ear  and  roused  him  from  pleasing  dreams.  In 
the  direction  of  the  discordant  noises  he  saw  on 
the  road  near  him,  small  groups  of  men  hurrymg 
along  towards  the  business  part  of  the  city.  It 
was  about  half-past  nine  o'clock,  and  he  noticed 
at  once  that  the  men  were  clearly  not  of  the 
working  classes. 

This  fact  drew  his  attention,  and  joming  the 
brisk  pedestrians,  he  soon  learned  from  over- 
heard conversations  that  the  County  Aisize  was 
being  held  in  the  city,  that  an  important  criminal 
trial  was  to  be  that  day  commenced,  and  that 
they  were  all  going  to  witness  it. 

The  Court  House  was  soon  reached.  It  was 
a  dingy-looking  gray-stone  building  that  de- 
pressed the  spirits  to  look  at,  and  seemed  to  ex- 
ude misery  from  its  crime-soaked  walls.  By  ten 
o'clock  every  seat  in  the  great  dreary  inside 
space,  was  filled,  and  crowds  of  excited  men  hung 
around  the  outside. 

In  a  sort  of  iron  cage  near  the  Bar,  sat  a  man 
about  forty-five  years  of  age,  well  dressed,  evi- 
dently belonging  to  the  wealthy  traders  of  the 
community.  And  it  was  noticeable  that  the 
vast  assembly  in  the  great  room  were  mostly 
of  the  same  class. 

Inside  the  Bar,  were  many  of  the  ablest  Advo- 
cates in  the  country.    The  Judge,   a   dignified- 


fl'l 


99 

looking  man,  soon  took  his  seat.  The  Court 
was  opened,  a  jury  empanelled  and  sworn,  and 
the  charge  against  the  prisoner  read. 

Then  the  Public  Prosecutor,  a  hard-faced, 
hard-hearted  man,  made  so  by  long  communion 
with  crime,  but  of  great  learning  and  ability, 
slowly  arose,  and  in  a  voice  as  cold  as  steel,  ad- 
dressed the  jury  as  follows : — 

"Gentlemen,  it  is  my  painful  duty  to  present 
for  your  solemn  deliberation,  a  wonderful  chain 
of  circumstantial  evidence  of  the  guilt  of  one  of 
our  hitherto  most  respected  citizens.  The  pris- 
oner before  you  is  charged,  as  you  have  heard 
read,  with  the  infidel  crime  of  robbing  the  Sacred 
Treasury  of  our  Most  Holy  Catholic  Church  of 
Saint  Jacques,  and  of  profanely  using  the  sacred 
spoils  in  the  purchase  of  merchandise. 

Most  of  you  very  likely  know  the  prisoner  to 
be  a  wealthy  merchant.  But  neither  riches  nor 
rank  in  society  can  have  with  you  any  weight  in 
your  consideration  of  the  question  of  his  guilt. 
No  stronger  evidence  is  necessary  to  convict 
this  man,  than  would  be  required  to  convict  the 
poorest  and  most  obscure  man  in  the  Kingdom. 

This  crime  was  committed  eight  years  ago  in 
the  night  time,  and  no  trace  of  the  robber  could 
be  found,  although  the   ablest    Inspectors    and 


i 

1 


most  experienced  detectives  were  at  once  put 
upon  the  case. 

They,  however,  were  able  to  establish  certain 
facts,  among  which  were  these: 

1st.  That  the  robber  gained  admittance  to 
the  church  through  a  window  that  he  forced 
open. 

and.  That  he  was  disturbed  in  his  work,  con- 
sequently left  the  building  hastily  before  he  had 
completed  the  job  planned. 

3rd.  That  he  took  off  his  shoes  when  he  got 
inside  the  church,  and  left  them  near  the  win- 
dow where  he  entered,  and  in  the  suddenness  of 
his  flight  did  not  take  them  with  him. 

4th.  That  he  left  the  tools  used  in  breaking 
into  the  Sacred  Chest  in  a  position  that  showed 
him  to  be  left-handed. 

Sth.  That  he  took  from  the  altar  as  he  passed 
out,  a  gold  candlestick  which  was  seven  feet, 
seven  inches  from  the  floor  where  he  stood, 
plainly  showing  that  he  was  at  least  six  feet  tall. 

6th.  That  about  the  time  of  the  robbery,  the 
prisoner  suddenly  became  very  prosperous  in 
business,  and  made  large  cash  purchases  of  mer- 
chandise. 

7th.  That  there  was  taken  from  the  Treas- 
ury that  night,  three  small  rare,  gold  coins  of 
very  ancient  date,  and  having  impressed  on  one 


side  of  them  the  head  of  Saint  Peter,  founder  of 
our  Church. 

Last,  but  not  least,  that  there  was  found  on 
the  floor  among  the  tools  left,  a  mailed  glove  or 
gauntlet  of  ancient  pattern  and  ingenious  make. 
This  glove  was  evidently  used  by  the  robber  to 
keep  his  hand  from  being  bruised  by  the  rough 
steel  bar  with  which  he  pried  open  the  treasury 
chest,  showing  that  he  had  a  delicate  hand;  and 
It  is  a  left-hand  glove,  showing  the  robber  to  be 
left-handed. 

Except  the  finding  of  these  facts,  nothing 
could  be  gained  that  would  even  fix  a  suspicion 
on  any  one,  and  so  the  >.iars  ran  on,  till  a  few 
months  ago,  a  carpenter  making  some  repairs 
on  an  outbuilding  belonging  to  the  prisoner, 
had  occasion  to  remove  some  of  the  wainscot, 
and  found  between  it,  and  the  outer  wall,  the 
gold  candlestick  taken  from  the  church.  The 
prisoner's  house  was  then  searched,  and  one  of 
the  three  gold  coins  was  found  in  his  possession. 
He  was  then  put  under  arrest,  and  is  now  on 
trial  before  you  for  the  robbery  I  have  described. 
Gentlemen,  you  will  now  harken  unto  the  evi- 
dence as  I  shall  present  it." 

The  silence  in  the  Court  Room  was  oppres- 
sive, as  an  officer  placed  on  the  Prosecutor', 
table,  a  pair  of  genteel  looking  shoes  evidently 


!;f.   1 


made  for  a  man  who  could  afford  to  pay  a  good 
price,  also  a  gold  candlestick  and  a  small  gold 

'"''The  Prosecutor  broke  the  silence,  by  calling 
an  officer  to  place  a  stool  for  the  P^soner  s  feet, 
and  then  to  take  off  the  shoe  from  his  right  foot. 
This  was  done,  and  the  neat  ^'l^-jto^''^;/^^ 
foot  trembled  as  the  Prosecutor  took  the  right 
shoe  in  his  hand,  and  said :— 

"Gentlemen  of  the  jury,  you  are  about  to  wit 
ness  one  of  the  most  crucial  exhibits  of  self-con- 
viction ever  imposed  upon  a  '-^"  f  arged  w  th 
a  crime.  We  had  not  the  right  before  to  force 
.his  man  to  try  on  these  shoes.  And  now  if  they 
do  not  fit  perfectly,  it  will  be  your  pleasant  duty 
to  acquit  him,  for  it  can  be  established  beyond  a 
reasonable  doubt,  that  these  shoes  were  worn  by 
the  man  who  robbed^  the  church,  at  the  time  he 
entered  the  building." 

Then  he  handed  the  shoe  to  the  officer,  who 
put  it  on  the  prisoner's  foot.    It  fitted  him  well, 

as  all  could  see. 

The  prisoner  turned  pale  as  death,  and  his 
foot  slid  nervelessly  from  the  stool  upon  the 
floor.  A  sad  look  appeared  upon  the  faces  of 
the  eager  spectators,  but  the  Prosecutor  heeded 
neither  the  prisoner's  distress,  nor  the  pained 
look  on  the  faces  of  his  friends.    For  him  it  was 


103 

a  professional  triumph,  and  lifting  the  collusive 
foot  in  full  view  of  the  jury,  he  patted  it  approv- 
ingly, and  said :  "A  perfect  fit,  gentlemen,  as  you 
ca"  plainly  see." 

The  shoe  was  then  taken  off,  his  own  put  on, 
and  he  was  told  to  stand  up.  An  officer  pro- 
duced a  guage,  and  setting  it  on  the  floor, 
brought  the  slide  down  upon  his  head,  and  said, 
"Six  feet,  one  inch."  The  Prosecutor  handed 
the  guage  to  the  jury  to  see  for  themselves. 

"Sit  down,"  said  the  officer.  The  prisoner 
dropped,  rather  than  sat  down.  His  agitation 
was  now  absolutely  painful  to  all  except  the 
Prosecutor  and  detectives.  To  them  it  was  evi- 
dence of  guilt  and  it  pleased  them,  strange  as  it 
may  seem. 

A  sheet  of  paper  and  a  pen  were  placed  upon 
a  table  before  the  prisoner,  and  he  was  told  to 
write  the  words,  "gold  candlestick."  He  hesi- 
tated for  a  moment,  then,  as  if  with  great  effort 
to  control  himself,  took  the  pen  in  his  left  hand, 
and  wrote  the  accusing  words  in  bold,  well- 
formed  characters.  A  murmur  of  discontent 
came  from  the  agitated  people.  To  them  it 
seemed  cruel  to  thus  force  the  man  to  furnish 
such  damaging  evidence  against  himself. 

A  priest  was  then  called  to  the  witness  stand, 
who  testified  to  the  robbery,  and  the  finding  of 


ifll 


hi  > 


104 

the  shoes,  and  identified  the  pair  on  the  Prose- 
cutor's teble  as  the  ones  found.  He  also  identi- 
fied the  candlestick  as  the  one  taken  from  its 
place  on  the  altar  the  night  of  the  robbery,  and 
said  that  he  knew  the  height  from  the  floor  to 
where  it  sat  to  be  seven  feet,  seven  inches.  The 
gold  coin  was  then  shown  to  him,  and  he  swore 
that  it  was  one  of  the  three  stolen  from  the  Sa- 
cred Treasury.  And  on  cross-examination  said 
he  knew  it  to  be  one  of  the  three  coins,  because 
only  these  three  remained  from  the  small  num- 
ber struck.  The  others  had  been  all  recai;-d 
and  melted  by  order  of  the  Emperor  of  Rome, 
and  these  had  been,  ever  since  the  year  A.  D. 
two  hundred,  in  possession  of  the  Church  as 
sacred  relics  of  its  persecution  in  the  early  days 
of  i's  history. 

A  carpenter  swore  that  he  found  a  gold  can- 
dlestick, in  the  space  between  the  wainscot  and 
outer  wall  of  the  prisoner's  coach  house,  and 
identified  that  on  the  Prosecutor's  table,  as  the 
one  he  so  found. 

Two  wholesale  merchants  testified  to  the  pris- 
oner, having  about  the  time  of  the  robbery,  made 
large  purchases  from  them  for  cash  down. 

A  detective  then  swore  that  he  found  the  gold 
coin  in  the  prisoner's  house,  and  that  it  was  hid- 
den away. 


105 

An  Instructor  at  the  gymnase  testified  that  the 
prisoner  often  took  lessons  of  him  in  fencing, 
that  he  sometimes  wore  gauntlets  and  that  he 
wielded  the  sword  in  his  left  hand. 

Then  the  prosecutor  took  from  his  table  a 
mailed  glove,  and  said,  "Gentlemen,  this  is  the 
most  material  evidence  in  the  whole  case.  These 
gloves  as  you  probably  know  are  worn  by 
swordsmen  for  a  protection  to  the  hand  and  to 
secure  a  firm  grip  upon  sword  hilt.  Since  the 
commencement  of  the  present  century  they  are 
seldom  worn.  This  particular  glove  is  skilfully 
made  from  platinum,  a  rare  and  valuable  metal  of 
great  durability.  It  is  flexible,  but  not  elastic, 
and  was  made  from  accurate  measurement  of 
every  part  of  the  hand.  Each  joint  of  the  fingers 
and  the  hand,  must  be  exactly  matched  by  the 
joints  in  the  glove,  and  the  whole  fitted  closely, 
and  when  so  made  would  not  fit  another  hand  in 
a  thousand. 

The  palm  of  this  glove  plainly  shows  wear 
from  the  sword  hilt,  as  you  may  see,"  and  he 
passed  it  to  the  jurors  for  inspection.  "As  you 
may  also  see,  it  is  a  left-hand  glove,  and  the 
owner  of  it  must  be  a  left-handed  swordsman,  a 
very  rare  occurrence  in  the  art  of  fencing.  It 
has  been  proved  that  the  prisoner  is  such  a 
swordsman.    This  glove  was  made  to  fit  a  large 


I  r  i 


ill  11! 


106 

genteelly  formed  hand.    The  prisoner  has  such 

a  hand. 

Now,  gentlemen,  you  shall  see  this  glove  tried 
on  the  prisoner's  hand,  and  it  it  fits,  you  will  give 
the  fact  its  full  weight  in  determining  his  guilt. 

An  officer  then  tried  011  the  glove.  "A  good 
fit,  gentlemen,"  said  the  prosecutor,  holding  up 
the  trembling  hand  and  bending  the  fingers  to 
show  that  the  joints  all  matched.  "A  little  tight, 
I  admit,  but  in  eight  years  the  hand  has  grown  a 
trifle  stout."  The  glove  was  removed  from  the 
hand  of  the  prisoner  with  difficulty,  as  he  had 
lost  all  control  of  his  nerves  and  fallen  back 
against  the  iron  cage  in  amazed  stupefaction. 

This  closed  the  case  f  r  the  prosecution,  and 
the  prisoner's  lawyei,  an  able  and  learned  advo- 
cate, made  no  opening  to  the  jury ;  but  stated  to 
the  Court  that  the  evidence  for  the  prosecution 
was  of  such  a  character  that  it  could  not  be  re- 
butted by  positive  testimony  of  any  kind  that  it 
was  possible  to  obtain,  and  therefore  he  asked 
that  the  prisoner  be  allowed  to  make  to  the  jury 
the  best  explanation  he    could    of  the    circum- 
stances which  seemed  so  conclusively  convicting. 
To    this    the    Prosecutor    objected,    on    the 
ground  that  one  on  trial  for  a  crime  could  not 
testify  in  his  own  behalf. 
The  judge  ruled  that  he  could  not  testify  un- 


107 

der  oath,  but  that  he  might  make  a  statement  in 
explanation  if  he  desired. 

The  prisoner  had  by  this  time,  to  some  extent, 
mastered  his  agitation,  and  he  slowly  arose  and 
in  a  voice  husky  with  emotion,  said : — 

"I  know  nniliing  about  the  candlestick.  I 
never  saw  it  iill  shown  to  me  by  the  carpenter 
4t  the  time  he  found  it." 

"The  shoes  are  not  mine.  I  never  had  them  in 
my  possession  for  a  moment." 

"The  gold  coin  has  been  in  my  family  for 
many  generations.  It  lately  came  into  my  pos- 
session by  the  death  of  my  father,  and  there  is 
now  no  one  of  the  family  living  who  knows  of 
this  fact  except  myself.  The  last  one,  my  sis- 
ter, died  three  months  ago,  ati<l  I  am  glad  of  it — 
as  she  has  been  spared  this  disgrace." 

"The  merchants  told  the  truth  about  my  pur- 
chases, but  I  got  the  money  to  pay  for  the 
goods,  out  of  an  unusually  lucky  voyage  of  one 
of  my  ships,  but  the  captain  of  the  ship  is  dead, 
and  no  one  else  knew  of  the  profits  of  the  voy- 
age ;  my  books  would  show  that,  but  my  Coun- 
sel tells  me  they  cannot  be  used  as  evidence  for 
myself,  although  they  may  be  so  used  against 
me. 

"It  is  all  very  strange,  but  I  did  not  commit 
the  robbery." 


1)  Hi 


I     '.: 


"I     iii: 


The  prisoners  lawyer  then  briefly  addressed 
the  jury,  earnestly  warning  them  o!  the  danger 
of  conviction  on  purely  circumstantial  evidence 
which  might  be  found  to  fit  another  man  as  well. 
The  P  isecutor  claimed  that  where  he  cham 
of  circu.  'ances  constituting  the  evidence  was 
complete  in  every  link,  it  had  always  been  held 
by  courts  to  be  safe  groui.d  of  conviction. 

He  was  cold  and  cruel  in  his  tone  and  manner, 
and  confidently  claimed  a  verdict  of  guilty. 

The  judge's  charge  was  concise,  and  cleariy 
in  iavor  of  conviction. 

The  jury  were  out  but  fifteen  minutes  and  re- 
turned with  a  verdict  of  guilty. 

It  took  several  minutes  to  quell  the  mutter- 
ings  of  dissatisfaction  that  came  from  the  whole 
audience  when  the  verdict  was  announced. 

The  judge  rose,  and  the  pnsoner  was  told  to 
stand  up. 

The  doomed  man  with  evident  effort  did  so. 
and  the  judge  said: 

"Receive  your  sentence." 
Then  there  was  that  painful  pause  and  smoth- 
ered breathing  always  noticeable  in  a  criminal 
court  just  before  the  passing  of  sentence. 

At  the  same  time  the  prisoner  rose,  a  man  on 
one  of  the  rear  seats  stood  up,  and  commenced 


i!     >■ 


109 

to  walk  toward  that  part  of  the  room  where  the 
lawyers  and  witnesies  sat. 

An  officer  called  to  him  to  sit  down,  but  he 
paid  no  attention.  The  man  was  tall,  with  face 
nearly  the  color  of  bronze  from  evident  exposure 
to  the  elements,  the  features  were  clean  cut  and 
classical,  and  at  his  side  was  a  sword. 

This  weapon  attracted  the  attention  of  all.  He 
had  no  right  to  be  armed  in  that  room.  This 
each  one  who  saw  him  knew.  How  he  had  got 
into  the  room,  and  why  he  wore  a  sword,  were 
oii'istions  mentally  asked,  as  he  coolly  walked 
inside  the  Bar,  and  stood  in  front  of  the  jury, 
facing  the  judge. 

The  officers  looked  inquiringly  at  each  other, 
to  see  which  one  would  venture  to  arrest  the 
daring  intruder,  but  no  one  seemed  to  be  willing 
to  lay  hand  on  so  athletic  looking  a  man. 

After  standing  thus  long  enough  to  give  them 
a  chance  to  make  the  attempt  to  take  him  into 
custody,  he  said  in  a  clear,  firm  voice : 

"I  demand  a  stay  of  proceedings." 

Both  judge  and  lawyers  were  startled  at  the 
apt  and  precise  legal  language  of  this  demand. 
And  the  judge,  fearing  he  might  be  confronted 
by  some  learned  lawyer  in  disguise,  answered 
him  in  like  language : 

"On  what  grounds  ?" 


"On  the  ground  that  the  prisoner  at  the  Bar 
did  not  commit  the  robbery,"  replied  the 
stranger. 

"How  do  you    know   this?"    demanded   the 

"I  was  there  and  saw  it  done,  answered  the 
man. 

"Do  you  know  the  robber  and  where  he  now 
is?"  asked  the  judge. 

"I  know  the  man,  and  he  is  in  this  room," 
was  the  quick  reply. 

The  excitement  in  the  room,  had  each  minute, 
since  the  strange  man  stood  up  and  refused  to 
sit  down  when  commanded,  been  getting  more 
intense,  and  now  at  this  unexpected  announce- 
ment, nearly  every  man  of  the  hundreds  present, 
started  and  looked  accusingly  each  into  the 
other's  face,  as  if  mentally  searching  out  the  man 
who  had  done  this  wicked  thing.  The  suspense 
seemed  unbearable,  as  the  Judge  said  sternly : 

"Point  out  the  robber !" 

The  stranger,  now  the  only  cool  and  collected 
man  in  the  room,  ran  his  keen  eyes  deliberately 
over  the  long  rows  if  almost  breathless  men, 
as  if  in  search  of  the  culprit.  Then  turning  to  the 
Judge,  looked  him  full  in  the  face  for  the  space 
of  a  minute,  and  said : 
"Here  he  is — I  am  the  man !" 


'■3  '\ 

If  11 


4 


The  spell  was  broken,  and  a  great  sigh  of  re- 
lief came  from  the  long  benches. 

As  soon  as  the  judge  could  recover  from  the 
effects  of  this  unexpected  announcement,  he 
said: 

"Officer,  put  this  man  under  arrest !" 

The  stranger  laid  his  left  hand  on  the  hilt  of 
his  sword,  and  said  as  he  looked  savagely  at  the 
officers : 

"No  man  lays  a  hand  on  me  and  lives  long 
enough  to  take  it  off." 

Then  turning  to  the  Judge,  he  said : 

"You  know,  or  ought  to  know,  that  you  can- 
not lawfully  cause  my  arrest  for  a  crime  of  which 
another  man  stands  convicted." 

There  was  a  hurried  consultation  between  the 
Judge  and  Prosecutor,  and  then  the  latter  turned 
to  the  stranger  and  said : 

"How  am  I  to  be  satisfied  that  you  committed 
this  crime?" 

"By  better  evidence  than  you  used  to  convict 
an  innocent  man,"  replied  the  stranger. 

"How  can  that  be?"  asked  the  Prosecutor. 

"Bring  those  shoes  and  try  them  on  my  feet, 
and  you  will  find  that  they  fit  perfectly.  You 
will  also  find,  if  you  examine  them  more  closely 
than  did  your  sharp  detectives  that  they  are  not 
mates.    You  committed  a  great  error  in  trying 


: .!  I , 


\\   '• 


,11 

Ml 


lit 

on  only  one  shoe.  If  you  had  tried  on  the  left 
shoe,  you  would  have  found  that  it  did  not  fit 
the  prisoner,  and  that  he  never  could  have  worn 
it.  His  advocate  should  have  compelled  you  to 
try  on  both  shoes. 

"My  left  foot  is  slightly  deformed  and  con- 
siderably smaller  than  the  other.    To  prevent 
this  being  noticeable,  I  have  my  shoes  made  the 
same  size  and  shape  outside,  but  the  left  one 
is  always  lined  with  thick,  soft  morocco  that  fills 
the  shoe  to  some  extent,  and  yields  to   the  de- 
formities of  the  foot,  while  the   right   shoe   is 
lined  with  linen  or  thin  kid.    In  this  pair  it  is 
linen,  and  not  the  same  color  of  the  morocco." 
Then  turning  to  the  table  of  the  Prosecutor, 
he  seized  a  pen  in  his  left  hand  and  wrote  in  bold 
characters  the  words,  "You  are  but  an  engine  of 
the  law."    And  changing  the  pen  to  his  right 
hand,  wrote  the  same  words  in  as  good  form 
and  passed  the  paper  to  the  Judge,  saying  at  the 
same  time  to  the  Prosecutor: 

"You  see  I  am  ambidextrous.  Your  detec- 
tives said  that  the  man  who  robbed  the  church 
was  left-handed.  They  should  have  been  able 
to  find  from  the  way  the  work  was  done,  and 
the  tools  left,  the  fact  that  he  was  double-right- 
handed. 
"Measure  me,  and  you  will  find  that  I  am  six 


•>3 

feet  six  inches  tall.  I  could  take  easily  an  ob- 
ject from  a  place  seven  feet  seven  inches  above 
the  floor,  but  the  prisoner  could  not  A  man 
cannot  reach  to  grasp  an  object  higher  than  fif- 
teen inches  above  his  head.  You  should  have 
tried  this." 

Then  turning  suddenly  to  the  priest  who  had 
testified,  he  mbuttoned  an  inside  buckskin 
jacket,  and  from  a  small  pocket  brought  forth 
three  gold  pieces,  and  laid  them  on  a  table  near 
him,  saying: 

"Look  at  these!  They  are  the  coins  taken 
from  the  Sacred  Treasury." 

The  reverend  Father  bowed  his  head  in  silent 
contrition.  And  the  stranger,  without  waiting 
for  his  answer,  said  to  the  Prosecutor : 

"I  took  the  gold  candlestick  on  my  way  out 
of  the  church,  and  when  I  got  outside,  I  took 
temporary  refuge  in  a  small  building  near  by. 
This  building  was  in  course  of  construction,  and 
its    doors  and    windows    not    clos  Here    I 

hastily  concealed  about  my  person  the  ill-gotten 
treasures.  The  candlestick  bothered  me,  and  I 
threw  it  behind  the  partition  that  was  only  partly 
built  up,  intending  some  night  to  come  for  it; 
but  I  changed  my  mind  and  left  the  country  next 
day,  and  did  not  return  until  a  few  hours  ago." 

Then  taking  the  glove  from  the  table,  he  laid 


114 

it  palm  up,  and  from  some  recess  in  his  clothes 
produced  and  laid  beside  it  another  glove.  It 
could  be  plainly  seen  that  they  were  mates. 
Holding  them  up  he  said  these  gloves  were 
made  to  fit  my  hands  and  they  do  fit,  and  he 
hauled  them  on.  The  left  one  was  maae  to  fit 
my  sword  hilt  also,  and  there  is  not  another  like 
it  in  the  world,  for  I  designed  it  myself,  and  he 
fitted  the  inside  of  the  glove  upon  the  curiously 
fashioned  hilt  at  his  right  side  and  said,  "Are  you 
convinced  that  I  robbed  the  church?" 

There  was  another  consultation  between  the 

judge  and  prosecutor,  and  then  the  judge  said: 

"Gentlemen  of  the  jury,  in  view  of  what  you 

have  just  seen  and  heard,  you  may  reconsider 

your  verdict." 

There  was  a  few  minutes   of    suspense,    and 
then  the  forenr.an  of  the  jury  said: 

"We  find  ths  prisoner  not  guilty."  A  mu»- 
mur  of  suppressed  applause  came  from  the  mass 
of  people  on  the  benches,  and  the  Judge  said : 
"Prisoner  at  the  Bar,  you  are  discharged." 
An  officer  opened  the  door  of  the  iron  cage, 
but  the  dazed  occupant  did  not  stir  from  his  seat, 
or  seem  to  understand  the  eftect  of  what  had 
just  so  strangely  transpired  before  his  eyes. 

The  Prosecutor  then  turned  to  the  stranger 
and  said : 


] 


'■5 

"What  is  your  name?" 

"That  I  will  not  tell  you,"  said  the  man.  "I 
have  furnished  all  the  evidence  against  myself 
that  I  intend  to.  The  merchant  has  been  dis- 
charged and  cannot  again  be  tried.  My  object 
has  been  accomplished.  I  am  not  now  anxious 
for  my  own  conviction." 

Another  consultation,  and  an  officer  placed 
a  chair  in  front  of  the  jury,  and  the  Prosecutor 
.  :..y,id : 

"Gentlemen  of  the  jury,  you  will  now  hearken 
to  the  evidence  against  this  man,"  and  turning 
to  him,  said: 

"Prisoner,  take  that  seat!" 

The  stranger  turned  fiercely  and  said : 

"I  am  no  more  a  prisoner  than  you  are.  I 
came  voluntarily  here.  I  remain  here  volun- 
tarily. I  could  even  now,  with  this  good  blade 
which  I  won  the  right  to  wear  in  the  service  of 
my  country,  cut  my  way  out  of  this  room,  and 
beyond  the  jurisdiction  of  your  Court.  Take 
back  that  word  or  I  will  use  it  now  on  you !" 

The  Prosecutor  hesitated  till  the  irate 
stranger  half  drew  his  glittering  weapon,  then 
he  said : 

"I  recall  the  word,  and  say,  stranger,  seat 
yourself  on  that  chair." 

The  man  sat  down  and  an  officer   tried   the 


Ii6 

shoes  on.  They  fitted  exactly  each  foot.  Then 
they  were  given  to  the  jury  to  examine  and  were 
found  to  be  lined  as  the  man  had  said. 

"Stand  up !"  said  the  Prosecutor. 

The  man  obeyed.  An  ofKcer  measured  him 
and  said:  "Six  feet,  six  inches." 

The  priest  was  then  put  on  the  witness  stand, 
and  said  that  he  had  now  no  doubt  that  the  gold 
coins  were  the  ones  kept  in  the  Treasury. 

The  stranger  looked  at  the  subdued  and 
abashed  witness  and  said : 

'A  little  while  ago  you  swore  that  the  coin 
then  siiowed  you  was  one  of  these  coins,  and 
that  there  were  but  three  of  them  in  the  world. 
Let  this  be  a  lesson  seldom  learned  by  clergy- 
men, that  what  you  only  believe,  is  not  neces- 
sarily true.  The  truth  is  there  are  many  of  these 
coins  extant.  What  you  swore  to  was  not  truth, 
but  tradition." 

The  Prosecutor  here  said  to  the  Court,  that 
he  should  not  offer  any  furi.ier  evidence,  and 
asked  the  jury  to  find  the  man  guilty  on  his 
own  confession. 

The  Judge  then  asked  him  if  he  wished  to 
make  a  defence. 

"Only  to  say  that  I  was  in  desperate  need 
when  I  took  the  treasures,  and  that  I  am  able 


"7 

and  willing  to  restore  the  full  value  of  it  to  the 
Church,"  was  the  only  reply. 

The  jury  after  short  deliberation,  returned  a 
verdict  of  guilty  with  a  recommendation  to 
mercy. 

The  condemned  man  was  told  to  stand  up, 
and  the  Judge  then  said  to  him  in  a  stern  voice : 

"Now  that  I  am  about  to  pass  sentence  upon 
you,  I  demand  of  you  in  the  King's  name  that 
you  tell  me  who  you  are." 

The  man  fixed  his  hard  eyes  upon  the  judge, 
and  said  with  a  voice  that  seemed  full  of  hidden 
meaning : 

"Edouard  Gilenormand,  were  I  to  comply 
with  your  unwarranted  demand,  you  would  not 
dare  to  sentence  me,  and  then  a  great  crime 
would  go  unpunished.  It  is  better  that  you  pro- 
ceed with  your  duty." 

"Sentence  the  man,  not  the  name." 

At  the  mention  of  his  name,  the  Judge  grew 
pale,  and  his  voice  trembled  as  he  said,  after 
some  hesitation : 

"The  minimum  penalty  allowed  by  the  law 
is  twenty  years  in  the  Galleys.  I  sentence  you 
to  twenty  years." 

The  man  unbuckled  his  sword-belt,  and  laid 
the  sheathed  weapon  on  the  Judge's  desk,  and 
said: 


iiS 

"Keep  this  blade  till  I  call  for  it.  It  has  been 
baptized  in  the  blood  of  the  enemies  of  France^ 
When  I  come  for  it  I  will  tell  you  my  name  and 
rank."  Then  turning  to  the  officer,  he  sa.d :  1 
am  now  your  prisoner.    Do  your  duty. 

Two  of  the  stoutest  oi  the  officers  laid  each  a 
hand  on  his  shoulder  and  moved  toward  the 
outer  door.  At  this  moment  the  acquitted  mer- 
chant seemed  for  the  first  time  to  realize  that  he 
was  free,  and  springing  from  his  cage  like  a  wild 

beast,  he  exclaimed :  .    ,    .    ,       ,    t  ,m 

"OMonDieu!  It  is  true!  It  is  true  1  lam 
free!  And  I  must  thank  the  strange  man  for 
my  deliverance !"  .    ^  -^     .. 

And  he  rushed  for  his  liberator,  but  it  was 
useless  to  attempt  to  force  a  way  through  the 
mass  of  struggling  men,  who  seemed  now  to 
have  lost  all  interest  in  him,  in  their  frantic  ef- 
forts to  get  a  last  glimpse  of  the  mysterious 
stranger  as  he  was  led  out  of  the  room  and  away 
to  the  cruel  Galleys,  a  self-condemned  malefac- 
tor and  erstwhile  invincible  Notary  of  Grand 
Pre. 


41 


■fj 


119 


CHAPTER  VIII. 


The  Sagamore  had  cut  the  last  notch  in  his 
stick,  the  ten  times  twelve  moons  and  the  nine 
times  twelve  moons  had  been  faithfully  chron- 
icled to  the  limit  of  an  hour,  and  on  the  rock- 
lined  shore  of  the  deep  cove  described  in  the  be- 
ginning of  this  story,  he  stood  leaning  against 
a  jutting  point  of  the  black  cliflf  that  was  to  cast 
for  him  a  guiding  shadow  on  the  sand.  With 
folded  arms  and  frigid  face  he  waited  for  what 
he  doubted  would  be. 

About  him  were  the  wild  things  of  nature, 
and  himself  as  much  a  part  of  them  as  the  crag 
against  which  he  leaned.  Untaught  in  the  per- 
plexities of  science,  and  stoical  in  hard  unbelief 
of  its  truths,  he  wondered  why  the  tide  came  and 
went,  why  its  small  curling  waves  were  always 
crested  with  white,  why  the  leaves  of  the  forest 
were  many  colored  in  the  Autumn,  what  made 
the  rushing  wind  that  sterwed  them  on  the 
ground,  why  the  moon  waxed  and  waned,  and 
why  it  should  rise  this  night  at  the  same  time 
and  be  full,  as  it  was  nineteen  years  before ;  and 


;H 


1 

1 

1         (i 

! 

1; 
1 1 

II 

,, 

what  meant  the  strange  word,  "cycle,"  told  him 
by  the  Notary. 

More  than  doubting  he  watched  the  shore- 
ward surging  of  the  tide  till  its  last  inward  swell 
had  spent  itself  on  the  wave-worn  stones,  and 
the  sun  had  sunk  behind  the  western  hills.  Then 
he  looked  back  to  the  east,  and  there,  round  and 
yellow,  glowed  the  full  harvest  moon.  Presently 
on  the  beach  was  outlined  a  dim  shadow  of  the 
tall  rock  with  its  tapering  point  touching  the 
water's  edge,  just  as  the  Notary  had  said  that 
dark  night  in  the  woods  so  many  moons  ago. 

Amazed,  he  did  not  stir  from  his  niche  in  the 
rock  till,  to  his  keen  eyes  and  rough  senses, 
clearly  appeared  all  that  had  been  so  mysteri- 
ously told  him  would  happen. 

Then,  with  wary  steps  as  if  stalking  some 
fierce  beast,  he  walked  to  the  point  of  the 
shadow.  There  was  the  sea-polished,  irregular 
shaped  stone,  just  as  it  had  been  described. 

It  took  all  his  savage  strength  to  lift  it  from 
its  bed  in  the  wave-packed  gravel.  Eagerly  he 
dug  in  the  sand  at  the  bottom  of  the  hole  till  his 
strong  fingers  grasped  the  metal  box.  Then 
raising  himself  erect  with  eagle  gaze,  he  swept 
the  shore  up  and  down  and  the  wide  water  away 
to  the  dim  horizon,  then  seizing  the  box  from 
its  grave  of  nineteen  vears  he  walked  swiftly  into 


the  thick  woods  above  the  ledge.  Here  he  sat 
down  in  a  recess  of  a  cliffy  hillside,  and  waited 
till  darkness  and  the  lateness  of  the  hour  would 
shield  him  from  probability  of  being  seen  by 
any  other  tha:,  night  prowlers  of  the  forest. 

He  was  firm  in  the  beliefs  of  his  people  about 
the  Gods  and  myths  of  the  mountains,  and  now 
he  was  troubled  at  the  triumph  of  the  white 
man's  irreverent  knowledge.  His  simple  faith 
in  the  mysterious  guidance  of  the  Good  Spirit 
was  disturbed  by  the  hard  facts  of  human  calcu- 
lation, and  he  trod  the  trail  to  his  wigwam  in 
mediuting  mood,  threw  himself  upon  the 
fragrant  boughs  and  did  not  leave  them  tilMate 
in  the  forenoon  of  the  next  day. 

The  enigmatical  box  had  never  been  out  of 
his  grasp;  waking  or  sleeping,  he  had  kept  it 
close  to  his  side.  And  when  in  the  full  light  of 
day  he  had  carefully  scrutinized  it,  he  sent  Lete 
to  ask  the  big  Scotchman  to  come  and  see  him. 
This  man  was  the  only  one  of  the  settlement 
who  had  his  full  confidence.  Some  time  in  the 
afternoon  the  girl  returned,  and  the  Highlander, 
with  whom  she  had  of  late  years  become  a  great 
favorite,  was  with  her. 

The  Sagamore  told  him  no  more  of  the  box 
than  that  he  had  found  it  in  the  sand  on  the 
shore,  and  asked  him  to  open  it.     Red  rust  had 


1 


111 
i„cru.ted  it  wd  the  Scotchman  was  obliged  to 

••llrd  not  before  seen  it.  and  now  .he  wM 
curious  to  know  it.  contents,  and  her.  wa.  the 
first  eyes  that  looked  under  the  raised  hd.  and 
te^er'ewalded  with  a  sight  of  bright  gold  com. 
on  the  top  of  some  time-.tained  papers 

When  a  child  she  had  seen  the  Ch«f  handle 
these  Klittering  coins,  and  sometimes  he  had  al- 
owed  he    to?lay  with  them.    When  she  grew 
older  and  went  to  school  he  had  occasionally 
^ven  her  a  gold  piece  to  pay  her  teacher   and 
fhe  sight  of  them  now  filled  her  with  dd.ght.  a. 
she  wondered  if  they  were  for  her  own. 
''when  taken  out  and  counted,  the  papers  were 
carefully  removed  and  the  box  exammed  for  any 
Xr  thing  it  might  conUin.    All  b;t  -e  o,  the 
papers  were  tied  with  tape  and  had  a  great  seal 
K  wax  attached  to  them.   That  one  was  wnt- 
ten  in  a  bold  plain  hand  in  the  French  language, 
and  the  Sagamore  gave  it  to  Lete  to  read  aloud^ 
He  undersfood  French  and  the  Scotchman  sa^d 
he  did  also,  much  to  the  surprise  of  the  Indian 
and  the  girl,  as  neither  of  them  had  ever  heard  a 
word  of  It  from  his  lips.    This  is  what  was  wnt- 
ten  on  the  paper : 

"To  the  Girl  Left  With  the  Sagamore  Glode. 
■'Your  name  is  Hypolcte  Guavain.    That  was 


'»3 

your  mother'*  maiden  name.  She  died  the  day 
you  were  born.  You  will  never  know  your 
father's  name,  and  he  does  not  know  that  you 
ever  lived.  He  was  a  common  suldier  in  the 
British  army;  but  he  was  large  and  handsome, 
and  your  mother,  a  young  girl  full  of  romance, 
saw  him  on  parade  while  on  a  visit  to  London, 
foolishly  loved  him,  afterwards  secretly  married 
him  and  followed  his  regiment  across  the  ocean 
to  Quebec,  where  you  were  born  and  she  died. 
He  was  poor  and  plebeian ;  she  was  rich,  beauti- 
ful and  noble  of  family.  You  were  placed  with 
the  Sagamore  when  a  little  child  that  your 
father  might  never  know  you.  The  papers  with 
the  seals  are  title  deeds  to  the  rich  inheritance 
that  is  yours  in  France  by  descent  from  your 
mother,  if  your  father  knew  that  you  uore  born 
alive  he  could  legally  claim  a  life  interest  in  these 
estates. 

"The  title  to  all  this  property  will  vest  in  you 
the  day  you  are  twenty-one  yesrs  old ;  and  that 
will  be  the  first  day  of  September,  1774.  You 
will  go  to  France  with  your  papers  and  (possess 
jiir  property.  Keep  your  mother's  maiden 
name  and  no  one  will  dispute  your  title.  The 
papers  are  old  deeds  of  family  lands ;  she  was 
heir  to  all  these  lands  and  you  are  her  sole  heir. 
If  I  am  then  alive  I  will  come  to  you  if  I  can.    I 


til 
'nil 


114 

fi,»r's  eldest  brother,  and  the  only 
'""  To^n^Satufher  marriage  and  death. 
Twas  I  X  concealed  your  birth  from  your 

foT-Frrd  and' then  you  will  have  plenty 
ofmoneyandbeagreat^aiy.^^^^^^^^^^^ 

Count  De  le  Frontenac, 
In  Acadia  Rene  Le  Blanc, 
Notary  of  Grand  Pre. 

him  au  revoir,  that,  last  to  ner,  u 

'Tiving  Lete  to  her  thoughts,  the  men  went 
outside  and  seated  themselves  on  a  fallen  fa-ee 

whose  fortune  had  so  suddenly  «^  .^^^^, 

The  sound  of  footsteps  among  the  fallen  eaves 

soon  arrested  their  attention,  and  lookmg  m  the 


I 


Its 

direction  of  the  noise  they  saw  'i inonching  with 
firm  step,  a  tall  man.  He  lad  on  the  broad 
brimmed  chapeau  and  long  '^,-,.y  jQijg  gf  ^l^g 
Recollet  Friars  of  that  day,  a  ^la-,-  of  Fr.inciscan 
monks  remarkable  for  their  piety  and  bravery, 
but  his  head  was  not  shaven  as  was  the  custom 
of  monks,  and  long  iron-grey  hair  rested  on  his 
broad,  slightly  stooped  shoulders.  Unhesitat- 
ingly he  walked  directly  to  where  the  two  men 
sat,  and  at  once  gave  to  the  Sagamore  the  Mic- 
mac  salutation  of  peace,  then  turning  as  if  to  sa- 
lute the  other,  he  started  suddenly  back,  and  his 
eyes  flashed  as  a  menacing  frown  came  over  his 
fine  features. 

Instantly  a  like  change  distorted  the  usually 
frank  face  of  the  Scotchman,  as  he  rose  to  his 
feet  and  met  the  stem  gaze  of  the  Priest.  "Plebe- 
ian seducer,"  muttered  the  monk  in  a  half  growl. 
"Escaped  convict,"  replied  the  Scotchman  in  a 
higher  tone. 

There  is  but  one  sequel  to  words  like  these 
from  such  men,  and  it  came  instantly,  for  the 
Priest  threw  off  his  robe  and  sprang  like  a  tiger 
upon  the  Scotchman,  who  met  the  attack  much 
as  a  bear  would  that  of  a  mountain  cat.  He 
threw  around  him  his  great  sinewy  arms  and  en- 
deavored to  squeeze  him  into  submission,  but 
found  that  his  antagonist    was    muscular   and 


Mi 


strengi.i  priest's  arms  and  legs.    It 

sought  to  release  himself,  but  struggiea 
his  mieht  to  overmatch  his  adversary. 

ThSagamore  looked  on  with  about  the  same 
interest  tlfat  a  boy  watches  the  fig^t  of  two  buUs^ 
when  his  father  does  not  own  either  buU...  He 
was  himself  strong  and  brave,  and  saw  w  th 
Tavag  delight  these  muscular  men  contend  for 
rmasters'hip,  although  he  knew  neither  why 
they  fought,  nor  what  would  fuUow  the  defeat 

'' furious  as  was  the  strife  it  l-ted  several  r^^^^^ 
utes  without  advantage  to  either,  tilHhe  Scotch 
^an  got  an  under-hold,  and  lifting  his  foe  from 
Ws  feet  raised  him  breast  high  and  with  tremen- 
dou^force  flung  him  upon  the  gro"f- wh^e  he 
kv  senseless.    Then,  without  a  word  to  either  ol 
he  r^e'he  walked  rapidly  in  the  direction  of  his 
dweUhie     He  had  unexpectedly  met  a  mortal 
enemy  'and  was  not  retreating,  but  biding  time 
and  place  to  meet  in  deadly  conflict. 

The  Sagamore  did  not  stir  from  his  seat  til 
the  Priest  had  recovered  consciousness  and  put 


"7 

on  his  long  robe,  then  he  walked  to  him  and 
laying  a  heavy  hand  on  his  shoulder,  said,  "No- 
tary Grand  Pre  welcome  back  to  woods  of 
Acadia."  The  Priest  did  not  return  the  saluta- 
tion, but  with  faltering  voice  said,  "The  little 
child,"  and  with  painful  look  waited  reply;  the 
Indian  made  none,  but  pointed  to  the  wigwam 
and  led  the  way. 

The  meeting  between  Lete  and  the   Notary 
was  embarrassing  to  both.    She  had  heard  the 
Sagamore  tell  of  his  many  daring  deeds,  and 
had  fancied  him  a  dashing,  military  appearing 
man,  and  was  disappointed  when  he  now  told 
her  that  this  robed  and  demure  looking  monk 
was  the  great  Notary  of  Grand  Pre.    And  he  in 
turn,  was  not  prepared  to  see  his  niece  a  tall, 
shapely,  nut-brown   Indian   maiden.     She   was' 
handsome,  that  his  heart  conceded ;  but  he  fan- 
cied she  would  be  pretty  and  petite   like  her 
mother  at  her  age.     Neither  spoke  of  this,  but 
each  intuitively  read  the  thoughts  of  the  other. 
The  Sagamore  understood  the  situation,  and 
turned  the  current  of  their  minds  by  asking  the 
Notary  to  tell  him  how  he  had  become  a  Priest. 
Willing    to    be    diverted  from  thoughts  that 
were  painful,  the  robed,  and  now  pensive  man, 
commenced  at  once  with  his  imprisonment  and 
escape  from  Port  Royal,  and  told  all  the  perils 


l!  I 


iff' 


!1: 


of  his  long  journey  to  Canso-especially  nar- 
ing  n"uU  the  encounter  with  the  wolves  and 
hHiraculous  deliverance  by  the  ^tacU  of  *e 
...  Tfalil  ^aid  the  Indian.  Ureat  spiru. 
SoThe    had    got    back    to    France    and 

S  :  hiLelf  up  I  be  P"-^ed  *°- -^se'- 
had  many  years  before  committed,  and  was  sen 
fenced  To  s'erve  twenty  years  in  the  "uel  chai- 
'Xo^  the  Galleys  in  place  of  the  n^an^w^^^^^^^^^^^ 

one  day  near  a  steep  mountain  side  where  two 

SetJsr^rs-:^::ufcS 
^bcTtSt^^sr^^^^ 

llrom  the  top    How  the  people  a.emb  ed  b 
hundreds  and  every  known  effort  ^^s  made 
rescue  the  child,  but  none  succeeded;  and  night 
was  near  when  he  would  fall  asleep  and  tumble 
S  his  perilous  perch.    How  he  then  asked  the 
!^ard  to  unlock  him  from  the  cham  that  he 
Sght  sav.  the  little  one  from  what  -emed  cer- 
3  death.    How  the  guard  did  so   and  he  by 
lat  strength  and  gymnastic-acquired  skill  in 
SLng,  scaled  the  steep,  craggy  mountam  and 
S  thf  aid  of  men  from  above  and  a  rope  ha<i 
the  child  safely  landed  on  the  top  of  the  ledge, 


\ 


"«9 

and  then  climbed  to  the  peak  of  the  mountain 
himself,  and  feeling  that  he  had  been  sufficiently 
punished  easily  escaped,  and  took  refuge  in  a 
monastery,  where  he  remained  concealed  many 
years,  sad  studied  with  the  pious  monks,  and 
became  one  himself,  and  was  at  their  request 
pardoned  by  the  King,  then  joined  the  Recollet 
Friars,  so  that  he  could  do  much  good  to  people 
in  need,  and  now  had  come  soon  as  possible  to 
Acadia  to  aid  the  orphan  girl  in  getting  her 
property  and  to  reward  the  Sagamore  for  his 
care  of  her. 

The  Indian  listened  without  interruption,  and 
said  in  turn  but  few  words.  There  was  on  his 
mind  a  weightier  matter,  and  he  asked  the  monk 
to  take  with  him  a  walk  in  the  woods,  and  when 
they  were  some  distance  from  the  wigwam  he 
said  abruptly : 

"TeU  me  what  you  know  of  the  man  you  saw 
with  me,  and  why  you  both  fight  so  hard." 

The  reply  of  the  priest  was  ascetic  enough  to 
«'">  even  his  laconic  questioner. 

"That  man,"  he  said,  "is  Lete's  father.  He  is 
a  deserter  from  the  British  army.  I  will  inform 
on  him  and  he  will  be  shot." 

While  saying  these  words  the  black  scowl 
came  again  over  his  face  and  he  seemed  like  the 


B' 


1J3 

Notary  of  Grand  Pre  as  he  had  seen  him  on  the 
dav  oi  the  battle  at  Nictaux. 

It  was  some  minutes  before  the  Indian  spoke^ 
Then  he  said  slowly  and  with  a  look  of  savage 

""Srw'mnotbeshot.  Youwillnottel.  He 
big  white  Brave  and  good.  Notary  ^randPe 
he  big  Brave  too.  but  he  no  dare  do  harm  to 
him.    He  my  friend-same  NoUry  Grand  Pre 

■^  ThTn"he  told  how  the  Scotchman  had  saved 
the  girl  from  drowning  and  with  great  strength 
and  wonderful  cunning  had  destroyed  the  Mo^ 
hawks,  the  dreaded  enemies  of  the  M.cmacs,  and 
thus  again  saved  Lete's  life. 

The  result  of  this  conversation  was  that  the 
next  morning  the  Sagamore  and  Pnest  and 
Lete,  went  together  vo  the  cabm  of  the  Scotch 
man,  where  a  reconciliation  was  brought  abou^ 
and  the  orphan  girl  gladly  accepted  a  father  m 
the  grand  looking,  kind  man  she  had  so  much 
admted  for  his  strength  and  bravery  and  had 
secretly  loved  for  a  cause  she  did  not  till  now 

''"once  that  friendly  relations  were  established, 
there  were  many  things  to  be  settled  and  the 
four  strangely  related  persons  spent  the  day  to- 
gether.   Lete  prepared  a  dinner,  and  the  men 


«3> 
Ulked  over  the  aflfairs  in  which  they  were  all 
more  or  less  it.terested.  It  was  finally  decided 
that  Lete's  father  should  receive  from  the  es- 
tates in  France  an  annuity  of  three  thousand 
francs,  and  that  he  remain  in  Acadia.  He  had 
in  a  quarrel  with  an  officer  killed  him  with  a 
blow  of  his  great  fist,  then  deserted,  and  dared 
not  be  known. 

It  was  now  too  late  in  the  season  to  take  voy- 
age across  the  ocean,  and  they  decided  to  wait 
until  spnng,  and  then  charter  the  Senemqua  for 
the  trip. 

This  was  Lete's  proposition.  She  had  been 
launched  in  the  vessel,  had  christened  her  and 
now  to  be  borne  in  her  across  the  wide  ocean  to 
La  Belle  France,  the  home  of  her  people,  would 
be  so  romantic;  that  she  stipulated  as  her  part 
of  the  arranging,  that  the  vessel  be  engaged  for 
the  voyage.  To  this  the  others  conceded,  and 
further  plans  were  left  for  future  days. 

Spring  came  at  last,  and  on  the  forenoon  ebb 
of  the  tide,  on  the  first  day  of  May,  1775  Lete 
in  the  wild  garb  of  the  daughter  of  a  Micmac 
Chief,  and  decked  with  violets  and  Mayflowers 
gathered  from  the  woods  by  many  willing  hands 
stood  by  the  helmsman  as  he  guided  the  buoy- 
ant ship,  and  waved  a  farewell  to  the  land  of 
Acadia,  and  her  free,  happy  girihood  life  therein 


;  !t..-- 


if  I 
ti 


finn  lips  murmured  a  sij^ce^*  Fg    '  ,«i 

pie.  and  the  country  -J^-'^JX t^ainty  ot  a 
a  distrust  in  himseK,  and  felt  th 
Higher  Power  somewherm  the  ^^^  ^^^ 

The  last  oi  ^he  "owd  ^o  le^e^^^     ^^^^ 

*^  Ton  S:  rough  beach'and  silently  watched 
rr:XSn.eg^^;^esa.s.« 

^S.^:rpaS:^^ttrrude  dwelling  in 

the  woods.  .         ^     He  had 

The  Sagamore  was  more  than  sa  ^^ 

susuined  a  double  bereav«nen^  Th  ^^^  ^^  ^^_ 
„,any  years  his  constant  ^J'''^  ^^  {,„„,  his 
tutored  grateiul  pr.de  ^ad  go"^^°;;;  j,,„ds 
presence.    Never  agam  wouW  he^  sh  PJ  ^^^^^ 

SluS:^r-raWe1Stthedu.ylorest 

^^tdtlSS^FH^-S^.^ 
«ore  buckskin  clothes  and  l»gh  t^Pj  j^^^.^^, 
galloped  his  black  stallion -Ja^*  and  ^^^ 
and  looked  so   brave,  now  wore  ^^^ 

shoes  like  women   walked  w^th  s      P     ^^^^ 
looked  afraid,  and  said  prayers 


133 

And  the  solemn  Aborigine  registered  his  sor- 
row with  a  smothered  sigh,  and  hastened  his 
steps  toward  the  lonely  forest  glades. 

The  Highlander  was  in  different  mood.  His 
spirits  were  buoyant  and  his  step  elastic.  He 
was  not  pained  at  parting  with  Lete.  She  was 
destined  to  live  a  widely  different  life  from  his, 
and  he  accepted  the  inevitable  without  a  pang. 
He  was  her  natural  father,  by  kindred  blood  al- 
lied; yet  he  did  not  feel  the  same  endearment 
that  warmed  the  heart  of  the  austere  savage, 
alien  in  blood  and  race,  who  had  watched  over 
her  childhood  years,  and  defended  her  from 
harm. 

Thus  it  is  that  Nature's  righteous  law  defeats 
the  vague  theories  and  vain  desires  of  man,  and 
bestows  rewards  where  best  deserved. 


134 


In 


ill 


CHAPTER  IX. 


pots;  the  extravagances  o  ^^^-^^^^^^^^^^       ^,^,. 
Among  the  interestmp  P'°?"^\^°;"     pame. 

'^'centuries  ago.  this  building  was  a  "Cathedral 
Centuries  ag.  "sanctuary"  uttered 

demned  crossed  the  broad  stone  ^ 


»35 
up   a  strong  room  for  his  occupation  and    se- 
curity. 

One  bright  sunny  forenoon  in  the  month  of 
May,  1778,  there  was  in  this  old  Cathedral  a  vast 
assembly  of  the  most  courtly  men  and  fashion- 
able women  of  the,  then,  proud  city  of  Paris.  It 
was  a  period  in  the  country's  history  when  dress 
was  adored  and  beauty  worshipped;  and  it  was 
to  see  a  new  star  in  beauty's  brilliant  constella- 
tion, that  drew  so  many  of  the  vain  elite  to  the 
ancient  church  at  this  early  hour  of  the  day.  The 
soft  yellow  rays  of  a  thousand  flickering  tapers 
tinged  the  grey  daylight  from  the  decorated  win- 
dows as  it  fell  mellowed,  upon  delicate  embroid- 
ery, rich  plumes,  and  lovely  faces  beaming  with 
expectation. 

Before  the  flower-wreathed  altar,  stood  a  no- 
ble looking  man,  and  by  his  side,  leaning  on  the 
arm  of  a  tall,  gray-robed  monk,  was  a  lovely 
girl  in  bridal  costume. 

All  eyes  were  upon  the  girl  and  sparkling  with 
delight.  Her  symmetrical  form,  and  teasingly 
unnamable  complexion  of  her  soft-featured, 
small,  sweet  face,  made  up  a  type  of  beauty  that 
belonged  to  no  one  of  the  many  cultivated 
modes  of  that  courtly  age. 

Among  her  feminine  admirers  there  was  no 
thought  of  rivalry,  so  unlike  theirs  were  her  cap- 


136 

tivating  graces.  It  wa.  the  lily  of  the  lake,  be- 
ride  the  potted  flower,  of  the  con.ervatory ;  the 
jlSection  of  nature  outvying  the  enchantment. 

^''AToft  in  the  time-worn  belfry,  mellow  toned 
bell,  pealed  a  wedding  chime,  while  .olemn- 
voiced  priest,  pronounced  the  "«"^«f'  f^" 
mony.  and  the  youthful  pair  were  pledged  for 

''  Already  the  reader  know,  that  the  bride  i. 
Lete.  Her  hu.band  is  the  young  Count  de 
Rochambeau.  ^ 

At  a  fashionable  gathenng,  some  months  after 
Lete's  arrival  in  France,  she  unexpectedly  met 
the  Count,  and  allowed  him  to  discover  her 
through  the  enchanting  mask  of  society  dress 
and  polite  manners;  and  to  learn  from  other, 
that  she  was  his  equal  and  more,  in  family  rank 
and  prestige.  Then  she  took  a  sly  little  maidenly 
sweet  revenge  by  permitting  him  to  play  the 
role  of  an  unaccepted  suitor  for  two  years  before 
yielding  to  her  heart's  desires  and  consentmg  to 

become  his  wife.  .    .  •  ^  • 

Youth,  beauty  and  riches  were  their  joint  in- 
heritance; and  titled  society  welcomed  them  to 

its  ranks.  .  .         . 

But  events  were  at  this  time  transpiring,  that 
shaped  the  thoughts,  and  determined  the  con- 


137 

duct  of  brave  men  and  true  women.  On  the 
continent  of  North  America,  there  had  been  for 
the  last  three  years,  a  struggle  for  liberty  that 
stirred  the  hearts  of  patriots  everywhere. 

It  was  a  contest  between  the  common  people 
and  the  power  of  kings;  a  strike  for  liberty  of 
conduct.  Already  the  youthful  Marquis,  de  La 
Fayette,  had  espoused  the  cause  of  the  colonists, 
and  spent  a  year  in  the  service  of  the  rebel  army, 
and  was  now  returned  with  the  title  of  General 
bestowed  upon  him  by  the  so-called  American 
Congress. 

Count  de  Rochambeau  was  his  personal 
friend,  and  soon  decided  to  join  him  in  his  ef- 
forts to  raise  an  army  to  help  the  Provincialists 
fight  for  their  rights. 

About  seven  thousand  volunteers  were  soon 
collected,  and  ready  to  serve  under  the  command 
of  the  enth""astic  young  General.  When  the 
time  c«. ,  *  •  ,  ;■  for  America,  the  Count  and 
his  Geiieiu  i>  .^  .^tonished  at  the  claim  of  the 
beautiful  Countess  to  be  allowed  to  accompany 
her  husband. 

She  had  already  begun  to  tire  of  the  platitudes 
of  aristocratic  society,  and  to  long  for  the  free- 
dom of  peasants  and  fellowship  with  wild  things. 
Arguments  were  of  no  weight  when  cast  into 
the  scale  against  this  desire  to  be  again  for  a 


m 


M 

III: 

III: 


if' ' 

fi; 
n 

1 

111: 

138 

while,  in  the  familiar  forests  of  America;  and  in 
Tess  than  two  years  from  the  day  of  the  bnlhant 
wedding,  she  bade  good-bye  for  a  season  t° 
courts  and  castles,  and  took  passage  m  one  of 
thelnsport  ships  of  General  La  Fayette,  for 
the  far  distant  contment.  . 

It  was  September,  1780,  when  the  fleet  amved 
at  Rhode  Island,  where  the  soldiers  remamed 
inactive  until  December,  when  General  La  Fay- 
ette started,  with  two  thousand  soldiers  to 
march  across  the  country  to  General  Washmg- 
ton's  headquarters  in  Northern  Pennslyvama^ 
Count  de  Rochambeau  had  been  made  a 
Colonel,  and  he  and  his  wife  went  with  this  de- 

tachment.  .     .  j     i,„„ 

The  march  was  long  and  fatigumg,  and  when 
they  were  nearing  its  end  there  came  over  that 
part  of  the  country  a  fierce  snow-storm.  It  was 
one  of  those  storms  when  the  snow  "'ems  to 
come  down  in  sheets,  instead  of  flakes.  All 
night  long  the  wind  appeared  to  be  shakmg  the 
frozen  vapors  out  of  the  dark  sky ;  and  by  morn- 
ing there  was  over  two  feet  of  solid  snow,  with  a 
thin,  sharp  crust. 

The  French  soldiers,  unused  to  snow,  were 
terrified  at  the  severity  of  the  storm,  and  the 
great  depths  of  the  icy  element  that  seemed  to 
them,  impassable.    Their  position  was  penlous. 


IS 

I  I'!!  1 


"39 

British  troops  far  outnumbering  them,  were  en- 
camped only  about  ten  miles  distant,  well 
equipped  with  snow-shoes,  and  the  soldiers 
mostly  knew  how  to  travel  on  them.  The 
Frenchmen  could  neither  wade  through  the 
snow,  nor  walk  on  raquets  if  they  had  them,  and 
there  was  not  a  pair  in  the  whole  outfit.  They 
were  in  an  open  country,  and  without  means  of 
fortification.  They  knew  also,  that  there  was 
among  the  British  soldiers  a  strong  feeling  that 
they  had  better  have  stayed  at  home  and  minded 
their  own  afJairs;  and  that  very  little  quarter 
would  likely  be  shown  in  case  of  an  attack. 

General  Washington's  forces  were  equipped 
for  travel  over  the  snow  and  could  easily  come 
to  their  assistance  if  only  they  knew  where  to 
find  them,  and  their  danger.  The  day  was  in- 
tensely cold,  and  at  times  a  fine  sleet  fell,  and  in- 
creased the  thickness  of  the  sharp  crust,  and  by 
night  all  hope  of  making  their  way  through  the 
snow  was  abandoned,  and  General  La  Fayette 
called  a  consultation  with  his  officers. 

While  thus  engaged  the  sentinel  informed  the 
General  that  the  Countess  de  Rochambeau 
would  like  to  be  admitted  to  the  council.  The 
General  was  gallant  as  well  as  brave,  and  the  re- 
quest was  at  once  granted.  When  the  door  of 
the  tent  was  opened  every  man  started  to  his 


il^ 


II 
il 
>\ 


f  'IV  .\ 

ill 


140 
feet  as  what  looked  like  an  Indian  warrior  m- 
tered   bit  a  minute  sufficed  to  assure  them  that 
t  was  the  young  Countess  in  lull  Micmac  dress, 
it  wi  the'sam!  dress  she  had  on  the  day  she 

oTon  the  deck  of  the  Senemqua  and  wa.v^ 
a  eood-bye  to  the  land  of  Acadia.  In  her  be  t 
LTSe  bright  steel  tomahawk,  and  the  Count  s 
Zy  pistolf,  and  in  her  left  hand  she  held  a  pa.^ 
rinow-shoes  that  she  had  earned  away  from 
Ac^S  Not  even  her  husband  knew  that  she 
ha"  these  raquets  or  the  dress  with  her  outfit 
'when  she  left  France. 
"Not  waiting  for  the  officers  to  -over  from 

their  surprise  at  her  strange  appearance,  the 

"°"^:S  do  you  know  in  what  d je.ion  » 
General  Washington's  camp,  and  about  how 
many  miles  it  is  from  here?" 

"Why  do  you  ask?"  said  the  astomshed  Com- 

"'^BeLse  I  am  going  to  reach  him,  and  pitet 
his  soldiers  on  snow-shoes  here  before  the  Bnt- 
ish  can  reach  us."  . . 

"That  is  impossible,"  said  the  General  with 

impatient  confidence. 

"It  is  possible,"  quickly  replied  the  woman^ 
"I  can  walk  over  the  snow  on  these  raquets  and 
if  the  distance  is  not  too  far,  I  can  reach  the 


I 


ii 


MI 

American  army  long  before  daylight.  The  Brit- 
ish soldiers  are  a  day's  march  from  us,  and  they 
will  not  move  tonight,  and  I  can  be  back  tomor- 
row with  the  help  that  we  must  have,  or  all  be 
killed  like  wild  animals  in  a  trap." 

The  General  looked  scrutinizingly  at  the  con- 
fident volunteer.  She  was  tall,  well-proportioned 
and  lusty-limbed,  as  her  odd  attire  allowed  him 
to  see.  Then  without  a  word,  he  took  from  his 
saddle-bags  a  rough  chart  of  the  country,  and 
looking  it  over,  said:  "The  distance  is  abou' 
ten  miles ;  the  direction  north-west,  but  how  can 
you  keep  the  course?" 

"The  night  is  clear,"  said  the  woman,  "and  I 
know  how  to  follow  a  course  by  the  stars  and 
the  trees  as  the  Indians  do." 

"But,"  urged  the  General,  "the  distance  is 
long  and  the  night  very  cold." 

"The  distance  is  short  for  me,"  she  replied, 
"and  I  will  walk  too  fast  to  feel  the  cold." 

"There  are  wild  beasts  and  savage  Indians  in 
the  great  forest  through  which  you  must  pass, 
and  there  is  no  road,"  said  the  General. 

"I  lived  too  long  in  the  wild  voods  to  fear 
either  of  them,  and  the  snow  has  made  for  me 
the  best  of  roads.  Have  I  your  permission  to  go, 
General?"  was  the  answer  received  to  this  last 
objection. 


A  perplexed  look  came  over  the  face  of  the 
General  and  he  turned  to  the  young  Count,  as 
TZtiZ  ««•  to  protest  against  the  rash  un- 
deXg'but  he  said  not  a  word  nor  wuhdrew 
his  eves  for  a  moment  from  the  fascmatmg 
;:man    of  whom  he  was  this  minute  prouder 

'"Att^gth  the  General  said  in  a  sad  tone: 
"xt  Stion  is  desperate.  We  have  no  oth«: 
hope  of  rescue-it  shames  me  to  say  .t-but  go 
3e  V  -Oman,  and  may  God  speed  you  on  the 

"*  mho^further  word  the  willing  messenger 
stepped  outside  the  tent,  and  slippmg  her  moc- 
casinned  feet  into  the  toe-straps  of  the  raquettes. 
orlng  lightly  upon  the  surface  of  the  untrodden 
Tw    Some  of  L  soldiers  had  seen  her  strange 
S  as  she  went  to  the  General's  tent,  and  the 
r"sult  was  nearly  the  whole  camp  were  now  m- 
:;:!  spectators.    In  the  <ii-Uon  she  w«   o 
take,  there  was  between  the  camp  and  the  dark 
forest  to  be  threaded,  a  strip  of  barren  about  a 
Sle  wide.    The  snow  had  completely  covered 
The  rSs  and   dwarfed  shrubbery,  so   that  Us 
frozen  surface  looked  like  a  lake  of  ice. 

For  a  few  minutes  the  resolute  woman  stood 
on  the  brink  of  this  shining  surface,  then  k.ssmg 
Ser  hand  to  her  husband,  gave  the  md.tary  sa- 


'43 
lute  to  the  General,  and  started  off  with  long, 
graceful  strides  over  the  white  w  iSte.  The  moon 
was  near  the  horizon,  and  threw  a  long  shadow 
on  the  silvery  crust.  Of  all  the  thousand  lookers 
on,  not  one  had  ever  seen  this  feat  of  walking 
over  the  surface  of  the  snow;  and  now  as  they 
gazed  upon  the  tall  figure  chased  by  the  long 
flitting  shadow,  she  seemed  like  a  spirit  of  the 
air  on  winged  ieet,  and  not  a  man  of  them  left 
his  tracks,  till  the  shadow  and  substance  blended 
and  disappeared  in  the  dark  woods  beyond. 

Not  daring  to  depend  on  the  success  of  the 
woman's  undertaking,  the  soldiers  were  set  at 
work  piling  up  the  compact  snow  into  breast- 
works, as  some  slight  defence  against  the  attack 
they  knew  must  come  on  the  morrow. 

Midday  arrived,  and  there  were  listening  ears 
and  searching  glances  in  the  direction  from 
which  the  enemy  was  expected.  Only  a  few  cast 
hopeful  looks  along  the  line  of  track  taken  by 
the  brave  messenger  the  night  before.  One 
o  clock  came,  and  plainly  there  could  be  heard 
the  sharp  crunch,  crunch  of  raquettes  breaking 
the  crusted  snow,  and  the  confused  noises  that 
always  accompany  the  movements  of  large 
bodies  of  men.  Soon  from  the  woods  beyond 
the  open  space  emerged  the  athletic  woman 
trampmg  firmly,  as  when  she  took  the  first  steps 


II 


Washington  himseU,  foUowea  uy 

diers  all  on  snow-shoes. 

'loon  alter,  on  the  sUlns  of^e  woods   ;p_ 

Fr^'lTrtwaVliAeT^hat  they  were 
:5i.^toltro;  the  can,p  when  the  A^^^^^ 

troops  arrived.  ^u 

sumed  and  finished  in  a  day. 

what  was  left  of  ^^J^^l^         Count  de  Roch- 

The  romantic  life  history  and  «nri-"'^  f ;;; 
liness  of  the  youthful  Coun^ss  made  her  *e 
most  desirable  of  company,  and  forced  her  m 


us 

extravagances  of  social  indulgence,  that  always 
result  in  weariness,  and  often  in  aversion. 

A  few  years  of  this  festive  life  and  the  Revolu- 
tion with  all  its  mad  fury  broke  upon  the  Royal- 
ists ;  and  the  Count  de  Rochambeau  became  one 
of  their  generals  and  fought  against  the  same 
class  of  people  he  had  fought  for  in  America. 

In  this  crazy  inst-rrection  the  proud  family  of 
Guavin  furnished  leaders  as  cruel,  strange  and 
unrelenting  as  the  insurrection  itself. 

There  was  the  iron-nerved,  haughty  old  Prince 
of  Brittany,  best  known  as  the  Marquis  de  Lat- 
enac,  commander  of  the  Royal  forces.  The  giant 
young  nephew  of  the  old  Marquis,  Count 
Guavin,  leader  of  the  communists.  And  the 
bold,  righteous  Pere  Guilliame  Guavin,  once 
Notary  of  Grand  Pre,  now  a  RecoUet  Friar.  On 
every  battlefield,  among  the  dead  and  dying  of 
each  side,  this  robed  and  dauntless  Monk  was 
welcomed.  Always  cool  and  brave,  always  just 
and  helpful,  he  had  free  access  to  every  place 
where  it  was  possible  to  aid  or  soothe  the  suf- 
fering. 

At  a  time  when  religion  was  mocked,  churches 
destroyed  and  rtiests  cruelly  murdered,  this  in- 
trer'd  man  wore  his  sacerdotal  robes  unmo- 
les  i^,  and  on  the  bloody  battlefield  ministered 
to  the  needs  of  high  and  low,  rich  and  poor  alike 


146 

The  lovely  Countess  de  Rochambeau,  a  child 
of  the  rough  virtues  of  uncivilized  life,  secretly 
favored  the  cause  of  the  insurgents,  but  openly 
braved  the  dangers  of  declaring  herself  opposed 
to  the  Republic,  and  shared  vith  her  imperial 
husband  the  perils  of  mad  fanatcism. 

In  the  country  la  Vandee,  the  home  of  the 
Guavins,  in  the  summer  of  1790.  there  was-m- 
discriminate  slaughter  of  all  who  bore  arms 
against  the  Republic  or  were  suspected  of  noble 

blood.  J    X  J 

This  crusade  of  extermination  was  conducted 
by  the  infamous  Carrier,  who  took  delight  in 
the  invention  of  novel  methods  for  the  execution 
of  prisoners.  One  of  the-.e  favorite  modes  was 
what  he  facetiously  terned  "Noyads." 

Only  Priests  and  '.landsome  women  were  fa- 
vored with  this  mode  of  murder.  As  the  word 
indicates,  it  was  drowning,  sometimes  by  putting 
the  victims  in  boats  that  leaked,  and  letting  them 
remain  till  the  craft  filled  with  water  and  sunk, 
and  at  other  times  exposing  them  naked  for 
hours  on  rafts  or  planks  floating  and  then  dump- 
ing them  into  the  water. 

Early  one  sunny  morning  in  tHe  month  of  No- 
vember, 1790,  the  Count  de  Rochambeau  was 
shot  down  like  a  mad  dog  before  the  eyes  of  his 
brave  and  beautiful  wife,  and  she  with  several 


M7 
Other  ladies  of  rank,  and  like  fatal  charms,  were 
doomed  to  furnish  a  "Noyad"  for  the  blood- 
thirsty communists.  Naked  and  bound  with 
cords  of  yellow  silk,  they  were  placed  on  a  raft 
of  planks  covered  with  red  baize,  and  set  afloat 
on  the  river  Loire  at  a  safe  distance  from  the 
shore,  but  near  enough  to  gratify  the  vulgar 
gaze  of  brutal  spectators. 

So  cruel  had  been  the  oppression  of  the  com- 
mon people  by  the  rich  and  noble  that  their 
thirst  for  vengeance  knew  no  bounds ;  and  early 
this  bright  day  they  commenced  to  throng  the 
banks  of  the  peacefully  flowing  river,  and  long 
before  the  fatal  hour  for  dumping  the  prisoners, 
all  the  available  ground  in  the  vicinity  was 
packed  with  men  and  women  eager  to  witness 
strange  cruelties  and  violent  deaths. 

Near  by  on  the  tower  of  an  old  cathedral  was 
a  clock ;  and  the  crowd  watched  impatiently  for 
the  hands  upon  the  dial  to  meet  over  the  figure 
twelve,  which  was  to  be  the  signal  for  the  death 
plunge  of  their  victims. 

On  the  river's  brink  were  stationed  armed 
officers  to  keep  in  check  this  dang^irous  crowd. 
The  hands  on  the  clock  neared  ths  fatal  figure 
and  the  executioner  had  taken  his  place  on  the 
vile  floating  scaflFold ;  when  suddenly  there  was 
a  murmur  of  hundreds  of  voices,  and  the  living 


I4S 

m...  .wayed  wide  a.  the  well  1^*"  *;™  «I 
Friar  GuiHiame,  head  and  neck  above  the  talleat 
and  robed  to  the  heels,  pushed  his  way  through 
them  as  easily  as  if  they  had  been  reed,  instead 
of  Stalwart  men  and  women.    Somber  and  silent 
he  reached  the  water's  edge.    The  officers  on 
guard  not  knowing  his  relationship  to  the  Coun- 
tess de  Rochambeau,  and  assuming  that  he  was 
about  to  receive  some  last  message  or  admmis- 
ter  absolution  to  the  doomed  prisoners,  com- 
menced to  draw  the  float  nearer  the  shore  so 
that  he  might  get  on  board;  when  to  their  sur- 
prise he  sprang  like  a  tiger  from  the  bank  upon 
it  where  it  was,  and  bending  over  the  beautiful 
Countess  said  a  few  whispered  words,  then  from 
the  folds  of  his  clerical  vestment  produced  a 
long,  sharp  dagger,  with  it  cut  the  thongs  that 
bound  her  and  placed  the  trenchant  weapon  m 

her  hand.  , 

Instantly  the  agile  woman  was  on  her  teet 
waiting  while  the  demure  looking  Priest  by 
means  of  the  guy  pulled  the  float  nwrer  the 
shore;  and  in  less  than  two  minutes  from  the 
time  he  struck  the  raft  they  were  both  on  the 
land,  and  confronted  by  the  guards  with  drawn 

'*Quick  from  his  broad  shoulders  the  Monk 
threw  upon  the  ground  the  Priestly  robe,  and 


m  I 


■49 

flwhing  in  his  firm  left  hand  the  long  rapier  of 
«o  many  deadly  encounters,  set  upon  the  sur- 
prised officers  with  such  sudden  and  fierce  at- 
tack, that  the  long  unused  weapon  drew  blood 
at  every  stroke,  and  laid  at  his  feet  each  antag- 
onist. At  the  same  time  the  dagger  in  the  swift 
hand  of  the  outraged  and  avenging  woman 
sheathed  itself  in  the  breast  of  every  man  who 
attempted  to  lay  hands  on  her,  or  impede  her 
fierce  dash  for  liberty. 

So  unexpected,  savage  and  sanguinary  was 
this  onslaught  that  the  guard  fell  back  abashed, 
while  the  dismayed  crowd  drew  apart  and  al- 
lowed the  two  desperate  slayers  with  bloody 
weapons  in  hand  to  pass  through  unhindered. 

The  Monk's  familiarity  with  the  neighborhood 
enabled  him  to  find  quick  concealment  from  the 
baffled  and  amazed  insurgents  who  would  pres- 
ently kill  him  at  sight. 

There  was  now  no  safety  for  either  of  them  in 
the  whole  country.  With  the  aid  of  her  deliv- 
erer the  Countess  managed  to  get  possession  of 
a  considerable  sum  of  her  ready  money,  and  to- 
gether they  secured  passage  on  a  vessel  ready 
to  sail  for  the  land  of  Acadia,  and  bade  a  silent 
good  bye  forever  to  "La  Belle  France." 

After  many  weeks  of  ocean  tossing  they 
landed  at  Halifax  and  from   there  the   Monk 


150 
went  to  Quebec,  and  entered  upon  that  extraor- 
dinary missionary  work  among  his  people  in 
America,  so  well  known  in  later  years  of  h.s 
eventful  life  and  continued  after  his  death  by  the 
famous  Abbe  Sigogne. 

Lete  as  we  will  now  call  her  while  in  the  land 
where  she  gained  the  name,  travelled  on  foot  to 
the  little  crescent-shaped  cove  on  the  shore  of 
the  Bay  of  Fundy,  where  the  big  Scotchman  had 
made  a  clearing  in  the  great  forest  and  hved 
alone  in  a  small  house  of  his  own  construction 

Here  she  repeated  the  life  of  her  girlhood, 
treading  the  old  forest  trails,  loitering  along  the 
rugged  shores  of  the  stormy  Bay,  and  some- 
times accompanying  the  now  aged  Sagamore  in 
his  rambles  over  the  wild  country.  After  about 
three  years  of  this  absolute  freedom  of  thought 
and  action,  she  started  one  morning  on  a  walk 
to  Halifax,  a  distance  of  sixty  miles,  and  reached 
it  in  two  days. 

Beyond  the  mere  desire  of  change  and  love 
for  adventure,  this  now  more  than  ever  before, 
beautiful  woman,  had  no  purpose  in  makmg  the 
perilous  journey.  But  Fortune  that  always  fa- 
vors the  fair,  had  a  hidden  hand  in  the  under- 
taking and  it  was  soon  shown. 

One  afternoon  soon  after  her  arrival,  she  was 
alone  in  the  parlor  of  the  little  Inn,  when  a 


>5« 

large,  handsome  British  officer  of  high  rank 
came  into  the  room  in  a  careless  mood,  and  no- 
ticing her,  attempted  a  military  saunter;  but  did 
not  succeed  to  his  satisfaction,  for  a  pair  of 
sparkling  eyes  were  fixed  upon  him.  and  in  less 
than  a  minute  he  found  himself  a  much  embar- 
rassed man.  and  felt  his  heart  thumping  like  a 
bashful  boy's.  He  made  his  way  out  of  the 
room  much  less  confident  than  he  had  entered 
and  wondered  what  had  come  over  him  so  sud- 
denly. 

The  next  day  he  came  again,  but  with  the 
landlady,  and  obtained  an  introduction,  and  the 
result  was  a  marriage  within  a  few  months. 

The  next  summer  her  husband's  regiment  was 
ordered  to  England,  and  she  accompanied  him. 
Soon  after  his  arrival  he  was  made  Colonel  of 
the  Royal  Guards,  and  thus  permanently  situ- 
ated m  London,  where  his  handsome  wife  was 
admitted  to  Court,  and  greatly  admired.  After 
a  few  years  she  had  gained  influence  enough  to 
be  able  to  obtain  an  amnesty  for  her  father,  who 
returned  to  his  home  in  Scotland  and  spent  the 
remamder  of  his  days  in  the  peaceful  aJ^cation 
of  farming,  and  the  little  cove  on  the  Bay  shore 
where  he  lived  so  many  years  has  become  the 

^    t  ^^'^  ^'"^'='  "°^  «"«d  Scot's  Bay 
The  Monk  did  not  again  cross  the  sea.    The 


reign  of  terror  that  followed  the  Revolution 
grieved  him  sorely ;  but  his  usefulness  there  was 
at  an  end,  and  he  finished  his  life  among  his 
countrymen  in-  America,  whose  homes  still  hold 
cherished  memories  of  the  brave  Notary  of 
Grand  Pre,  and  the  pious  priest  Pere  Giuilliame. 
The  Sagamore  lived  to  a  ripe  old  age  highly 
esteemed  by  his  people  over  whom  he  ruled  as 
Chief  for  many  years,  and  respected  by  the  white 
inhabitants  of  the  whole  Province;  and  it  was 
from  his  son,  himself  a  Sagamore  and  old,  that 
the  writer  had  many  years  ago  the  story  of  Letc 
substantially  as  here  narrated. 


